


Speech is silver but silence isn't golden (and who decided this was a competition in the first place)

by Maria_and_her_books



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Angst, Childhood Trauma, Depression, Happy Endings For Everyone, M/M, Pining, Self-Indulgent, Think before you speak, Trauma, and this children is why we use our words, and you get a lot of issues, but dont stop at the thinking part, comma's everywhere, gratious use of adjectives, so much dialogue, so much pining, switching POV, you get a tragic background
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-12 00:06:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 22,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18000038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maria_and_her_books/pseuds/Maria_and_her_books
Summary: In which Glanni brings Íƥróttaálfurinn with him when Robbie calls for help. There's a lot of miscommunication and pining. Ah yes, the course of true love never did run smooth.Or...You know what is said about men who've lost their way?That, if it is true that black can become white, and cold can become warm, then it is possible for them to change, and finally find peace.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd, non-english writer. Perhaps I shouldn't have taken certain scenes in the show this serious. But here we are.

The banging on his hatch woke him up, an uneven rhythm echoing through his house, and with some grumbling he scrambled out of his comfortable chair to his periscope. No matter how often he circled the entrance to his lair with his viewing apparatus, there was no one to be seen. But the hammering persisted.

Annoyed but curious he climbed up to see whoever was causing that infernal racket. And yet, even above ground there wasn’t a soul to be seen. There was something however. 

Baffled Robbie looked to the heavens. No guidance but...a ladder?. A ladder indeed, hanging from Sportacus’ airship. The hero himself was nowhere to be seen, just the ship, gently rocking side to side, causing the ladder to bang against the hatch. As he was watching, the ship flew away from him and Robbie shrugged, moving to return underground. But the ship came back, hovering as if it was waiting to see what Robbie would do. 

Puzzled Robbie decided to descend slightly, pausing to observe what the ship would do, if it was reacting to him somehow. And indeed, it flew near enough that the ladder started it’s odd knocking again. Wood again iron, a gentle tapping now.

“Okay, I’ll play Sportakook! What do you want?!” There was no Sportself to be seen and the ship started moving again. Intrigued Robbie exited the entrance to his lair and took a few steps towards it. His hypothesis seemed to hold for now; it appeared as if the ship wanted him to go after it.

Considering who it belonged to, Robbie figured that it was quite harmless to follow it for a while and try to see where it wanted him to go. 

He trailed after it as it flew away from the village towards the forests north from it. Once or twice Robbie grew apprehensive and stopped in his tracks and the ship hovered ahead of him as if awaiting his actions. 

Taking into account that Sportacus had never shown any animosity towards him, quite the opposite in fact, Robbie kept going to wherever it was the ship wanted him to go. 

He’d discarded his vague notion that it was some elaborate ploy, contrived by the local hero to get him to exercise, some miles ago and the odd situation had gotten him genuinely invested and eager to see how this scenario was going to play out.

It seemed their destination was, as Robbie had already speculated, indeed the woods. 

He hadn’t been there for a long time but remembered the whimsical notion he’d had back then, that it was an enchanted place. There had been a thrum in the air of wild, otherworldly magic, and a hint that fey creatures were dwelling there, unseen and watching with golden eyes, following his every move on silent feet. The place had seemed oddly familiar and comforting to him and unnerved by it’s strange attraction Robbie had decided not to revisit.

And now, here he was, still following the ship which’s ladder miraculously managed to stay free and untangled in the foliage. A vague tingling sensation across his skin a slight discomfort, growing more unsettled with each step he softly muttered skywards, “We’d better be there very shortly or I’m going to return home.” 

No sooner had he spoken those words or into view came where the ship had been leading him. Or to whom.

Robbie halted his step for a moment, then dashed forwards, falling on his knees next to the prone body, “Sportacus!”

Blood was drenching his blue uniform, and frantically Robbie tore the cloth of Sportacus’ shirt apart to see where it was coming from. Two deep gashes across his chest, still bleeding sluggishly, a chunk of flesh torn from his left shoulder and what seemed to be…bite marks?  
Wild-eyed Robbie looked up, scanning his surroundings to see if whatever had caused this was still lurking near. Area clear of any visible threats he focused on the unconscious Elf, assessing the damage, slipping back into a very familiar routine he’d hoped never to employ again; take measure of the severity of the situation and determine whether it is necessary to immediately rush to a hospital, elevate afflicted limbs, put pressure on the wounds to stop the bleeding…

He’d stripped of his vest and used it as a makeshift compress, blood immediately soaking through the fabric. Frustrated he swore at the lack of anything of use around them, desperately wishing for the First Aid kit he kept well-stocked at his home. The world seemed to distort around him, air crackling with static and colours swirling, the prickling feeling dancing across his skin intensifying.  
And then the grass under his knees disappeared and he was sitting on the familiar cold floor of his lair, hands still stained with the blood, Sportacus still pale and unresponsive.

Stunned he gaped at his surroundings, pinched himself and flinched at the sharp painful sensation. Real enough it seemed and he decided to ignore all the recent surreal experiences for the moment and deal with more pressing matters first. With a decided lack of grace he stumbled to his feet and bolted to get his medical supplies.

\------------------------------

 

He did not know how long it had been but finally he sat back surveying his handiwork. Tidy bandages covering clean and neatly stitched wounds. He’d liberally used antibiotic cream, wondering for a moment whether it would even work on Elves, and deciding to apply all of the extensive medical knowledge he had for now and worry about it later. One problem at a time, and the next obstacle was getting Sportacus off the floor and somewhere more comfortable.

With some difficulty Robbie managed to get Sportacus settled into his own bed, the motions of wrangling a passed out person still quite ingrained in his system. 

He’d cut away the remainders of the bloodied uniform, expecting to find smooth unblemished skin underneath, apart from a few inevitable scars on knees and elbows.  
He’d been quite surprised by his findings however, having lived with Glanni for a long time, he was able to recognize a scar from a stab wound when he saw one. It sat low on the right side of his abdomen, where internal bleeding would have been inescapable.

Less of a wonder were the cute pointed ears that had been hidden by the hat, the blonde curls were an unexpected treat though. Robbie had thought the Elf to be a brunet, but the soft hair was interestingly two-toned. Robbie brushed it away from Sportacus’ forehead with a gentle fingers, snatching his hand away when he realized what he was doing.  
Hastily he tucked the Elf under the purple blankets and left the room without looking back.

And then, having dealt with all of the pressing matters, Robbie tossed his bloodstained clothes in the garbage, stalked to his shower and stood trembling and whimpering in the spray of water for a long time. 

Climbing back to the surface after his meltdown he was not in the slightest surprised to see the airship hovering about. “He’s safe,” he told it, “I’ll look after him for you. But I need some information on Elven physiology, I might inadvertently hurt him with human medicine.”

He didn’t know what he expected from the inanimate blimp but he didn’t foresee a book narrowly missing his head in answer.  
With a meek ‘thank you’, he clutched the treasure to his chest with shaking hands and returned to his precious charge.

 

\------------------------------


	2. Chapter 2

“You need to come with me.”

Íƥróttaálfurinn jumped, not expecting any voice at 1000 feet in the air, “Where did you..?!”

Behind him, in the basket of the hero’s hot air balloon stood Glanni Glæpur, shrouded in the shadows, his face unusually serious.

“Half Fae, shadowstepping. You need to come with me, your brother is hurt.”

“What?! How.. Sportacus..?”

“Come on,” the criminal grabbed Íƥró’s hand, “do nót let go.”

 

\------------------------------

The scream still stuck in his throat Íƥróttaálfurinn nearly tripped over his own feet, Glanni’s surprising firm grip a grounding anchor after the rattling experience of the crook dragging him from the safety of his balloon through pitch-black darkness to wherever this dimly lit place might be... 

Eyes fixed on the person in front of him Íƥróttaálfurinn cautiously squeezed the hand holding his, just to be sure Glanni was still next to him. It felt solid enough and Íƥróttaálfurinn plucked up the courage to turn his head to look at him. And then back to the person before him.

"Oh goodness, there's two of you," Íƥróttaálfurinn groaned.

 

\------------------------------

The two men ignored him and Glanni let go of his hand, clearly expecting him to follow. Mutely Íƥróttaálfurinn brought up the rear, the two taller men walking with purpose. He got the distinct impression that the shady room was some sort of workshop, though rather whimsical, with some very odd features.

Trying to got get a good look he didn’t pay attention to where he was going and abruptly he collided with Glanni’s back. The criminal ignored Íƥróttaálfurinn as he rubbed his shoulder absentmindedly, his attention clearly focused on something before him. 

Suddenly done with the whole situation and losing his temper Íƥróttaálfurinn walked around his personal pain in the neck to get a look at what was supposedly their whole reason for coming to this downright bizarre place.

And…

Oh…

This was not how he was supposed to meet up with Sportacus. Not at all.  
He ought to be met with a wide grin and a bonecrushing hug, exited tales, some friendly gymnastic competition.

Not… this.

Íƥróttaálfurinn had hoped never to have to see his little brother hurt again. But here he was again, helplessly staring as Sportacus moved restlessly in his feverish state.  
Ringing in his ears and cold dread in his chest Íƥróttaálfurinn watched as the unfamiliar man carefully unwrapped the bandages, revealing gruesome wounds, his deep voice explaining,  
“I don’t know what else to do Glanni, there is no reason for him not to heal. There must be something else going on, can you look please?”

A warm hand gripped his, Glanni’s voice gentle as he offered: "Don’t worry, Robbie is very good with wounds. I can’t hold a candle to his skills. I’m just here to see if there are traces of magic or something else left in the wound,”  
Glanni looked rather bored and Íƥróttaálfurinn frayed nerves made him lash out,”Good as in inflicting wounds?!”

Suddenly the whole focus and fury of the other man was on the Elf, “Never! Robbie took care of my wounds from a very young age. Neatest stitches, tidiest bandages, hardly ever any infection.”

 

\------------------------------

Íƥróttaálfurinn had seen enough injuries in his lifetime to recognize the restorative work of a skilled healer, and Robbie very much was one. The wounds were dressed flawlessly, the stitches very small and even spaced, no sign of an infection around the edges, just like Glanni had claimed.  
And still Sportacus was burning up, his body fighting to heal and desperately failing. 

“Did you get a doctor at least?” He knew it wasn’t a fair question, it wasn’t a question at all actually, but he felt the frantic need to dó something, anything, to help his little brother. 

The world surely was a strange place when Glanni out of the both of them chose out to be the voice of reason, "What more could a doctor possibly do than my Robbie? What does a small-town physician know about Elves? I thought you were keeping your ethnicity a secret? At least that's what I've always assumed, please don't tell me those awful hats are conscious fashion choices." Glanni looked Íƥróttaálfurinn up and down and remarked wryly, "Though they dó fit with the whole get-up, unfortunately..."

Íƥróttaálfurinn had known Glanni for a long time and was well aware that the man was only half paying attention to him. He seemed to be gearing up for something, mustering courage it seemed... It was clear in the way his hand fiddled with the hem of his dark shirt, a muscle jumping in his jaw. His grey eyes were fixed on the man who very much resembled him, seemingly searching for something in his demeanor.  
After some moments Glanni was clearly coming to a decision and with a sharp nod he stepped up to the bed.

With wonder Íƥróttaálfurinn watched as Glanni stretched out his hands over Sportacus' torso, a soft pink shimmer around them. He'd cocked his head as if listening for something, a frown on his forehead. Nothing seemed to happen however and puzzled Íƥróttaálfurinn wanted to move closer. A strong hand on his shoulder held him in place and Robbie shook his head, "Wait." Robbie wasn't watching Sportacus Íƥróttaálfurinn noticed, his full attention was on Glanni and Íƥróttaálfurinn watched the criminal a bit closer. Glanni was shaking, an almost unnoticeable tremor, sweat beading on his forehead, his frown clearly becoming one of pain. The shimmering light that twirled around his fingers was deepening in colour and Íƥróttaálfurinn finally saw how it also seemed to dance through his veins, pulsing and fading as it was disappearing from sight under the cuffs of his sleeves. 

All of a sudden Glanni snapped his fingers and the light was gone. Avoiding all eye-contact Glanni muttered, "All yours, there was something fey and nasty left in that shoulderwound, I think I got all of it." 

Uncertain Íƥróttaálfurinn watched as Glanni staggered out, "What did he do? How did he..?"  
He noticed Robbie watching the doorway with a worried look,  
“Magic. Go check on Glanni for me, healing always takes a lot out of him.”

Íƥróttaálfurinn watched for a moment as Robbie turned to the bed and began to bandage Sportacus’ wounds with more deftness and competence than he himself ever could.

Robbie scowled up at him as he lingered, “You have Glanni to thank for Sportacus’ continuing existence. The least you could do is look after him for a moment.”  
His glare softened, “I’ll come and get you as soon as I’m finished here. Go.” He shooed him out.

Íƥróttaálfurinn wandered into the open workspace, looking for the man...Fae… Preoccupied with more pressing matters he decided to shelve that particular revelation for a different time, preferably one a whole lot less disconcerting.

He found Glanni curled up in a hideous orange plush recliner. Pale and exhausted, dark shadows under his eyes. His tall frame looked even thinner than usual.

“Glanni.”

One eye opened, dull and unfocused.

“Glanni, what do you need right now?”

“Food, bath, sleep, ” his voice was gravelly, unsteady. Head resting against the chair’s soft cushion. Eye falling shut again he mumbled, “There should be some cake.There's always cake.”

A quick search of the place yielded half a pie. Íƥróttaálfurinn cut a generous piece. He owed it to the man who’d saved his brother.  
He nudged Glanni softly, “Eat, I’ll run you a bath.”

 

\------------------------------

He passed the bedroom on his way to the bathroom. Robbie looked up from his work, “How is he?” he sounded anxious.  
“Eating some cake, I’m going to run him a bath.”  
Robbie nodded, “Good, his muscles tend to seize up. The warmth will ease the pain. Don’t let him get into the bath on his own, the last time he nearly brained himself.”

He turned back to his bandaging and after a last look at his sleeping brother Íƥróttaálfurinn moved into action.

 

\------------------------------

Íƥróttaálfurinn firmly decided to banish all memories of the whole ordeal of getting Glanni out of that fluffy orange monstrosity, and into the tub. _(Which had also meant getting the drained nuisance out of his clothes. Not the way he had hoped to...)_ No recollection of the feeling of his own calloused hand skimming across smooth skin would ever resurface, there would be no clear image of long long lean pale legs etched in his mind. No vivid impression of a very nicely rounded firm ass indeed. Neither the sound of his soft content sigh as the man sank into the hot water nor the quiet groan as he stretched out his legs under the water’s surface would he ever be able to recall.

No sir, all memories were strictly PG-6 and no fodder for...interesting dreams whatsoever. 

The air filled with the calming scent of lavender and all of Glanni's tantalizing bits were safely hidden from view in the tub, just his head resting against a rolled-up towel, eyes closed. The purple of the cotton accentuated the bruise-like circles under his eyes, the skin there looking delicate and satiny. Pink lips slightly parted…

Valiantly trying to distract himself from sneaking another peek Íƥróttaálfurinn started doing push-ups next to the tub. The repetitive exercise helped him collect himself a bit and mentally he revised the preceding developments. Sportacus was going the be fine, he had no doubt about that now, not after what Glanni had done to ascertain his recovery… 

"That... whatever you did... that magic? That is what caused this?"

Glanni sounded weary, “There was something left in the wounds, some sort of spellwork that was festering, I had to twine it with mine first to dissolve it."

Íƥróttaálfurinn heard the sloshing of water and a soft moan.

Still trying to wrap his head about Glanni being Fae... fae-ish he wondered, “But why did you do it if it hurts you like this?”

“Because Robbie asked.” It sounded matter of fact, and Íƥróttaálfurinn recalled how the other man had looked at Glanni, like he had all the answers and there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he would know what to do.

Íƥróttaálfurinn knew better than to expect an explanation from Glanni but tried nonetheless, “Just, who is he? This Robbie?”

There was amusement in his favorite grifters voice as he answered, “Your brother writes about him all the time Íƥró, he’s Robbie Rotten, Sportacus’ villain.”

Very much aware that Glanni was trying to deflect he took the bait even so and queried; “How do you know what Sportacus writes about?” 

“I read your letters of course.”

“What?! How..?” 

The question wasn’t so much how Glanni got hold of the letters, Íƥróttaálfurinn had grudgingly accepted years ago that no thing on earth could keep Glanni from anything the thief had set his heart on. No, far more baffling was that he could actually decipher the strange symbols the correspondence between the brothers consisted of. 

“You are not the only one able to learn a foreign language Íƥró,” Glanni patiently said, sounding as if he was explaining things to a particularly dimwitted child. 

 

\------------------------------

Robbie had interrupted their conversation, unceremoniously and impatiently telling Íƥróttaálfurinn to go away and see to his brother. 

Sportacus had settled, the feverish flush gone from his cheeks. Íƥróttaálfurinn tucked one of his brother's unruly curls behind his ear and settled himself next to the bed to wait for him to wake.  
The quiet and peaceful vigil was roughly disrupted when Glanni staggered in, seemingly only on his feet by the grace of Robbie’s firm support. The younger man gently deposited Glanni on the purple comforter on the unoccupied side of the bed. 

Íƥróttaálfurinn took in the tightly clenched jaw, the spasming of muscles and looked back at his recovering brother, "I ehm, I can help? I know how to treat sore muscles, I can ease the pain, massage and stretch them to relieve the tension?"  
He knew he was babbling but the day was decidedly unusual and he still felt very much unsettled after learning that many things he had taken for granted over the years were far from what they had seemed. 

Robbie looked at Glanni and the Elf and with an eye-roll decided that he'd had enough of the irritating tension between the two men, "Please do, I'm out for a moment. Go do….whatever this is.”

 

\------------------------------

When Íƥróttaálfurinn returned from fetching the bottle of lavender oil from the bathroom Glanni had turned on his side, long legs drawn up, clearly in pain. Him stretching out on his back didn't seem to be an option so Íƥróttaálfurinn worked with what he got. Rolling up the pant leg of the silky pyamas the man was dressed in, he decided to start with the left foot. The oil warmed between his hands he started with a firm footrub, gradually moving upwards. Kneading the tense muscle gently with long strokes he avoided all eye-contact with Glanni, focusing on his painted toes instead. Gradually he felt the twitching muscles loosen up, Glanni tentatively stretching out his leg and rolling on his back. Íƥróttaálfurinn took it as a sign to start on the other leg, not once daring to offer to massage above the knee. That way lay madness for sure.

Of all his ill-advised ideas this surely topped them all; when trying to ignore attraction to someone, one should surely not offer to put their hands all over them.

Trying to distract himself from the very tantalizing body he currently had his hands on, Íƥróttaálfurinn struggled to think of a topic to banter about with the curiously silent Glanni,  
“So, this shadowstepping? That is how you break and enter?”

Finally they seemed to be back on more familiar ground with Glanni's affronted, “Absolutely not, I’m just very good at what I do.” The cat burglar shrugged elegantly, "Where is the fun in using magic. When one has the flair and brilliance to pull of an impressive caper one is obliged to flaunt their prowess. I have a reputation to protect you know. No shortcuts, no quick fixes."  
Glanni elaborated after a pained groan, "Shadowstepping is for emergencies only since it takes quite some energy."

Íƥróttaálfurinn laugh at the criminals vanity was cut short by an alarming thought, “Hang on, Glanni, what happened to my balloon?!"

 

\------------------------------


	3. Chapter 3

With Glanni finally settled down Íƥróttaálfurinn went in search for some desperately needed answers. Robbie had retreated to his workplace, seemingly seeking distraction and comfort in the familiarity of inventing.

Íƥróttaálfurinn watched him work for a moment and decided to address the most recent question first, “Why didn’t Glanni heal himself? He’s clearly very capable at healing magic.”

“Magic comes at a price,” Robbie answered, working on a very small partial-finished mechanism, clearly only half paying attention to the conversation, “it takes a lot of energy. That’s why he can’t use it to heal himself. Glanni has only ever used it for me.” 

Peering through magnifying lenses at his fiddly work he added absentmindedly, “It took me years to realize that the reason for him being too thin and gaunt was him using his magic to help me grow up unstunted and healthy while lacking the necessary nutrients in our daily diet.”

Íƥróttaálfurinn remembered Glanni as he had been when he'd first met him; tall and slender, all wide blue eyes and long long legs. Animated gestures, his painted mouth never shutting up. Captivating, even amidst the confusion and anger. 

In hindsight, he hád seemed malnourished back then, skinny, easily spooked, his almost manic energy suddenly gone...

He looked at Robbie, trying to puzzle out where to place him as a child in Glanni’s timeline. “I’ve known Glanni for a long time and I’ve only known him to care about himself,” he muttered, failing to come up with an answer that made sense.

Blazing eyes seemed to fix him on the spot, “Glanni raised me,” Robbie sounded angry, “he has placed mý well-being above his own since I was five years old.”   
He drew himself up to his full height and spat at the Elf, “He did what he had to do because no hero ever came to óur aid.   
He learned to steal to keep me fed, often going hungry himself for days. He learned to con to keep me in school, he pretended to be my father, my mother, came to every schoolnight. Yes, he lied and deceived, because no one helped, no support was every offered us, not even when he asked,” Robbie sounded bitter. 

“All they would do was try to take away what little we had left. Society failed him over and over. And yet he sheltered and protected me from all the world threw at us, he was kind, considerate, unwavering in his love and loyalty.”

Robbie pointed at Íƥróttaálfurinn, “You haven’t known Glanni at all. You saw him heal your brother, you saw how hurt he is, how much it took from him. And even now you dare to call him selfish?!   
To think Glanni has been holding you in high regard for all these years, and this is how you betray that trust?!"

Íƥróttaálfurinn was taken aback by Robbie’s intensity, clearly this man’s affection and ties to Glanni ran deep, going back for decades it seemed.

Íƥróttaálfurinn had always enjoyed the cat-and-mouse game they seemed to play: Glanni with his madcap schemes and disguises, fasttalking, boisterous, fun. He had believed there to be good in him, the cons after that first fateful one had been after all rather harmless; taking money and goods from somewhat less than pleasant individuals. Íƥróttaálfurinn had often wondered whether those people didn’t more or less deserve to be relieved of some of their ill-gotten possessions. 

The Glanni he thought he had known for years had been light-hearted, charm and smiles.   
Alone in the world, unburdened and unrestrained. 

And yet.

“I am sorry,” Íƥróttaálfurinn stammered rattled, “I didn’t think...” He trailed of, unsure of how to end that sentence. He hadn’t thought. Hadn’t known. Hadn’t known about a lot of things clearly.   
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. Sorry for offending, for assuming, for misunderstanding. For not knowing about this person who was so dear to Glanni.

The ire left Robbie’s eyes and he nodded, “Well, he always said the speed of your thought couldn’t keep up with the rest of you. Now go away, I need to finish this.” 

\------------------------------

The day catching up with him, Íƥróttaálfurinn's head spun with exhaustion. Hungry and cold he sank into the really uncomfortable chair next to the bed where his brother was now resting peacefully and relaxed.

His eyes flitted over to the other side of the bed for a moment, taking in Glanni as he slept laying face down, hugging his pillow, drooling unattractively and his smudged make-up leaving stains. Probably permanent ones considering who he was looking at, the man seemed to take pride in being as big a nuisance as possible. Íƥróttaálfurinn didn't quite know what to make of this unprecedented incident of him being cooperative and helpful.  
Drowsily he decided to figure it out later, closing his eyes for now and promptly falling in a fitful sleep.

He woke feeling like he was no longer ready to drop though his body was screaming abuse at him. Going through his usual warm up exercises and stretching reduced the emphatic protesting to more quiet grumbling rude remarks.

With a surly frown he noticed that Glanni was now snugly covered with warm and soft blankets. Chilled Íƥróttaálfurinn wandered out, hoping to find something of sustenance. Seeing as there was no natural light in the gloomy house Íƥróttaálfurinn didn't have the faintest idea what time of day, or night, it was. He found Robbie in his workshop however, so there couldn't have passed that much time.   
The startled reaction of the man on Íƥróttaálfurinn clearing his throat made the hero revise that assumption however. Visibly spooked Robbie turned, tired face pale, hair a mess, dark circles under his eyes, clearly having been caught up in his work. Work that now seemed to consist of constructing... a chair? Well, that wasn't a bad idea actually, it could only turn out to be more accommodating than the one Íƥróttaálfurinn had been sleeping in anyway.

Robbie waved vaguely in the direction of his pantry at Íƥróttaálfurinn's question about something edible, "There should be some cream and honey left."

Íƥróttaálfurinn's heart jumped wildly in his chest when a long arm wrapped itself around his shoulders and a deep voice rumbled next to his ear, "Cream and honey Biscuit? That should go wonderfully with some pie."  
Brusquely Íƥróttaálfurinn shrugged off Glanni's arm and scowled at the man's smug face. Unapologetic Glanni smirked, "You woke me up with your aerobics." He sauntered over to the pantry and yelled, "That's some excellent high-quality honey, where did you get that?!"

Robbie curiously turned red, refusing to make eye-contact as Glanni returned with a plate laden with pie and cream, "Really sweetheart, it's very good, where did you get this?"

Resigned Robbie answered, "From Sportanerds ship. The book said it should help with his recovery." 

Obviously aware that they would only pester him for more information he explained floundering, "His ship came to get me, I thinks it's sentient or something? It gave me a book with information about Elves when I requested it. And now it's still hovering about, it seems to be waiting for him."

"Sportacus' ship is out there?" Íƥróttaálfurinn sprinted over to what seemed to be an exit, halting in his tracks abruptly as twin shouting anxiously implored him to stop. 

Startled Íƥróttaálfurinn watched as Robbie snatched something from the workbench and strode over to him, "This place is warded, as long as I haven't adjusted the wards you should wear this when entering or leaving."  
Íƥróttaálfurinn recognized the small pendant as the item Robbie had been fiddling with earlier, a soft purple shimmer now glowing at the heart of it.

Glanni sounded uncharacteristically serious as he remarked: "Wear it or the wards wíll fry you. They are designed to keep out far more powerful magical beings than you. Now, the way up is through there," he pointed at some pipes. 

At Íƥróttaálfurinn's skeptical look Robbie nodded, "Through there, that's the only way out for you."

Íƥróttaálfurinn climbed up the pipes only to find the two men.. well Fae obviously, already waiting for him. He scanned his surroundings fleetingly, taking in the hatch, the billboard...

Of all the strange events that had come to pass since Glanni had appeared from the shadows in the basket of his balloon, discovering that Robbie's house was underground didn't even make it in the top ten. _(And if he were completely honest with himself, Íƥróttaálfurinn shouldn't be allowed to pass judgement on other people's choice of dwelling anyway, seeing how he himself lived in a balloon and all)_

Paying it no further mind he looked skywards and hailed Sportacus' loftskip, pleased to be met with some familiarity at last.

To be met with stoic nothing, the ship just swaying gently in the breeze. 

Íƥróttaálfurinn felt like screaming in frustration; he was hungry, tired, cold, constantly at a loss and now ignored by the same blimp that had once dropped it's owner out of his own door in it's hasty too sharp turn to get to Íƥróttaálfurinn faster.

Robbie's annoyed huff and his reproaching words at the ship bucked him up a bit, enough to appreciate _(instead of being insulted by)_ the fruitbasket launched at his head.   
Glanni snickering in the background irked Íƥróttaálfurinn enough to risk being slighted again, by asking whether the ship knew about his balloons where-abouts. It wiggled in response but stayed put.

"Oh, go on," Robbie sighed as he came to his aid _(Íƥróttaálfurinn was becoming seriously indebted to the man)_ , "I'll take care of your Elf. Just get this one it's transport back. You hanging about my place is only making the brats suspicious." 

The ship bopped once more and then began to rise in altitude only to fly away. 

"Well, that was a refreshing take on the definition of fast food. Are we done here?"  
\------------------------------


	4. Chapter 4

It was obvious, even to Íƥróttaálfurinn who'd met the man a day ago, that Robbie was tired, completely on edge with two unexpected houseguests. His face darkening at the ofttimes blaring of the crystal, muttering under his breath about ludicrous antics of the townspeople.

After a quick change into his Sportafake-suit _(an action that still fascinated Íƥróttaálfurinn who was unsure how much of the process was dramatics and sleight-of-hand)_ the man growled "You, come with me!" He grabbed Íƥróttaálfurinn by the arm and dragged him out to see what idiot had gotten himself in danger this time.

Glanni watched them leave with amusement, waving pleasantly with obvious mirth, with even more glee he beheld the return of a positively bewildered Íƥróttaálfurinn.   
The Elf turned to a sniggering Glanni and asked frustrated as he raked a hand through his hair, Just...how did he do that?! He told everyone he was Sportacus and how he was training me to be a hero. And they believed him! How?"

"Magic," Robbie deadpanned as he walked out to change back into his own clothes. 

Íƥróttaálfurinn gave his retreating back an evil eye. No matter how grateful he'd been earlier, this latest ordeal made him seriously reconsider his stand on the man's virtues. He'd dumped, there was no other word for it, Íƥróttaálfurinn in the middle of townsquare, and had ordered that he, while nauseated by the odd way of travel and still stumbling over his own feet, should rescue someone stingy.   
Impatiently he'd gestured at a yellow smudge which was producing a deafening shrill and screeching sound. It had turned out to be a speeding kid named Stingy _(seriously who let the other kids get away with using a rude nickname like that?!)_ who was extremely possessive of his car _(which wasn't too strange considering how the kid seemed to own the only car in town)_ and who demanded to know why he was saved by some rip-off hero instead of by the real deal.

Robbie had told the assorted kids who had flocked to him that Íƥróttaálfurinn was his brother, a lesser hero who had come to stay with him to learn the trade so to say. Spinning a tale about how his brother was going to do all the saving in the week to come as some practice for his upcoming exams, he clearly convinced the children, and two very befuddled adults, that this was the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

He'd been charismatic, exuding goodwill and enthusiasm. Íƥróttaálfurinn was blindsided by some mannerism that he'd clearly copied from Sportacus; though decidely less graceful the man cóuld jump impressively high.   
The townsfolk had been utterly taken by him, ready to meet his every request, eagerly demanding his attention. Robbie had taken his time; seemingly genuinly interested in the stories the children told him, giving praise, ruffling hairs, doling out advice, encouraging them. 

All exactly like Sportacus would have done. 

And then, after excusing himself and dragging Íƥróttaálfurinn away with him and out of sight, he dropped them back in his lair in the same staggering way they'd left in the first place.

"How did he dó that?!" Íƥróttaálfurinn sure acknowledged the folly of asking Glanni for an explanation but he had the outright need to to verbally express his awe. _(And his question could be taken as rhetorical anyway. He'd firmly deny the actuality of a question if so needed.  
Plausible deniability was usually Glanni's modus operandi but Íƥróttaálfurinn wasn't afraid to fight fire with fire. Which they'd also had done, quite literally come to think of it...)_

He was startled from his ruminating by Glanni's, "Clever thinking sugar!" only to realize that it had been aimed at the now absent Robbie.   
Glanni smiled proudly at Íƥróttaálfurinn, "That's my boy." Still presumably alluding to Robbie.

The brilliance of that smile made Íƥróttaálfurinn's outright forget all his disclaimers about not going to ask questions and he blurted, "Magic?"

And it seemed there was room for one more miracle: “A hint of Fae magic, Robbie has a knack with glamours. He brings his heart into his costumes and inventions and they work against all probability.  
Me, ironically I’m more adept at nurturing and bolstering life. But Robbie, he once convinced this town that hé was the real Sportacus. They were ready to let your brother go. My Robbie can impersonate everyone, an eye for details he's got and a lot of imagination..."

Íƥróttaálfurinn was rather surprised by the fond smile on Glanni's face, had not thought that the criminal cared about anyone in the world. And here he was, clearly thinking the world of this strange unexpected man; the opponent of Íƥróttaálfurinn's little brother, and yet also his savior.

"It's good to know he hasn't lost his touch. Now yóu can save everyone in town while your brother is recovering. It's a very good explanation for his absence."

Íƥróttaálfurinn mulled that over for a moment and had to admit that it had been some very quick thinking where Robbie was concerned, "I have to say that I'm rather surprised by his care about Sportacus' image. I'd think that him seemingly neglecting his duties should be a very easy way to foster distrust among the townspeople. He's been trying to make Sportacus leave forever after all..."

Glanni snorted, "As if anyone would believe that Robbie wanted Sportacus gone."

Glanni looked up and caught Íƥróttaálfurinn's confused expression. "You thought Robbie wanted him gone?" he asked incredulous. 

"He is always scheming to make him leave town! Sportacus writes about it all the time!"

It was quite clear that Glanni wasn't sure whether to laugh or offer a sardonic comment. After a beat he settled for a bland, "Robbie wants him to stay. Forever."  
\------------------------------


	5. Chapter 5

Glanni was torn between giving Robbie the space he so very obviously craved and…needing to knów. On top of everything that had happened the last few days, Robbie was now on edge by the constant presence of people in his space, it had left him exhausted. 

With Íƥróttaálfurinn gone to town _(something about wanting to get to known the natives, probably impressing them with his athletic nonsense while flipping around to burn off some of that excess energy)_ Robbie had relaxed a little, having told Glanni once, long ago, that he was a comfortable presence. Not demanding, not wearing him out.

Robbie had always been a quiet kid, a contrast to Glanni’s boisterous personality.  
Sure, Robbie could be loud, outgoing, a charming show-off, but where Glanni was energized by being surrounded by people _(and playing them like a fiddle)_ , it exhausted Robbie. It slowly drained him till he… fled and needed time to recharge.  
Silence, solitude, the quiet and lack of social demands a balm for his racing thoughts, soothing his frayed nerves and helping him breathe more freely. 

He needed a tranquil haven from the noisy world. Robbie was a person who experienced his emotions deeply; the happiness, loneliness, hope and pain. 

It had worried Glanni time and again, but Robbie had once told him that the depression, the anxiety, the frenzied bouts of work, the playfulness, his highs and lows, it was just him being him. It took energy, and it could give so much joy. 

And he loved fiercely. He loved Glanni, unwavering, dearly. 

And now apparently this Sportacus, in the only way he was capable of, with everything he had.

\------------------------------

Robbies father, Johann, had been the same. A happy marriage, Johann telling the temperamental and impulsive Sóley to give him space now and again. Loving her ardently, their introverted and extroverted personalities good counter-balances and meeting in the middle. 

Their relationship had been one of seeking harmony and shared perspectives, respecting their differences. Their passionate feelings; the fickle fae-heritage running through her blood, his closed reflective nature, it had led to arguments now and then.  
But they always had found an agreement, a middle where there was place for Sóley’s instinctive decisions and Johann’s carefully deliberated ones.

But even Johann, thoughtful and choosy as he had been, hadn’t been able to foresee their future. Hadn’t been able to imagine the worst that could happen by reaching out.  
Even Johann, unsociable and reserved except with his loved ones Johann, had thought people to be good, or, not thát evil.

Glanni had loved his brother-in-law.  
Had hated him.

Hated him for not changing Soley’s mind about that fateful decision. For not imaginging the worst but trusting her judgement on her kin.

He missed him, his understanding, his patience. Their warm and loving home.

He wondered what they would have made of Íƥróttaálfurinn. Íƥróttaálfurinn, who had become a fixed point in his life, argumentative, audacious, bright and idealistic. Speaking his mind with sincerity, even about the hard truths Glanni preferred not to face. Confronting but not condemning.

Glanni had resented him for it for years. 

Had been grateful for it.

Íƥróttaálfurinn had thought him worthy of such humanity.

\------------------------------

Lost in thought he’d been staring at Robbie, the orange carpet soft where he was lying on it. The quiet hum of machinery in the distance, the soothing sight of Robbie fastidiously mending a suspiciously blue item…  
He turned on his stomach, propped his head up with his hand. He réally wanted to know.  
“Robbie?” he prodded, the other man would tell him to back off and leave him be for the moment if needed. “Hmm?”, rather noncommittally but no dismissal.

“That ship came to you for help and then it gave you a book on Elven physiology?" he managed to sound rather innocent.

"Threw it at my head would be more accurate," Robbie muttered, most of his attention fixed on the uniform he was mending.

Glanni smirked, "Robbie, Muffin, did I miss a letter somewhere, announcing your new relationship-status?"

"What?! No! Shut up!" 

Gleefully Glanni noted his furious blush and couldn't help but tease a bit more, "Are you sure? I mean you dó write about him in your every letter..."

"Seriously, shut up," Robbie glared at him halfheartedly, his ears still red.

"And you got him all cosied up in your bed and all..."

"Glanni!"

"Mending his clothes..."

Robbie had composed himself enough to interrupt in a honeyed tone, "You know Glanni, you taught me everything I know about relationships."

Glanni fell silent a bit then grumbled goodnaturedly, "Fair enough kid, you know next to nothing ."

Robbie picked up the needle he had dropped before and resumed his minitious stitching. He held out for a full five minutes before he ventured, "Glanni? Do you know... How... I.."  
He sighed, his eyes fixed on the clothes in his lap. Glanni waited patiently, knowing not to rush Robbie when he was brave enough to voice his most intimate thoughts or dared to seek counsel.

"Glanni, I think I want... that. I want to try... with Sportacus," blush high on his cheeks but bravely making eyecontact, "But I don't know how. I don't know how to get there."

His nose twitched, his hands fidgeted, but his eyes calm and serious, 

"You see, I like... He takes me as I am and doesn't try to change me. I mean, he would like me to make some dietary choices that seem more healthy in his eyes. But I mean, me, my personality, my weirdness, my flaws, he's fine with that. He doesn't try to fix me and he doesn't judge me. He seems to like me, respect me as I am. No, he likes me as I am. He's honest like that, there's no pretending with him. I can trust him on that. He doesn't agree with me about a lot of things but he accepts me. Being near him makes me feel…alive. He doesn’t demand that I stay when I really need to go away and have some quiet. He gives me that opportunity, sometimes even creates a distraction so I can go...  
He's not afraid to challenge me about things we have very different views or opinions on. But he doesn't do that to prove me wrong, he always does it to understand me better, listens to me and values what I have to say. And he tends to give me another perspective which I had not considered before...  
Aaand you're looking at me weirdly... What is your face even doing? What is that look Glanni?!"

Oh, his wonderful awkward Robbie, wanting something... No, having something like that.

"Glanni? What are you..."

Glanni got up, blinking away the tears that had gathered in his eyes and roughly hugged the other man. Robbie rigid in his arms before he gracelessly wrapped his arms around him, "Glanni?" he sounded uncertain.  
"I'm alright sweetheart. I'm alright. It's just... you grew up to be such a fine man. Sometimes you're so much like your father." He held Robbie tightly, his own face hidden for a moment longer. 

Then he let go, smiling at Robbie's worried expression, "You are wonderful Robbie, astounding. When did you get this wise about love?" 

Robbie looked insecure, his shoulders hunching and Glanni hastened, "I'm serious Robbie, I can't tell you anything about relationships that you do not already know. That Elf, your Sportacus... I wish him to be worthy of your love, your trust. I want him to be the man you described. I want that happiness for you." 

Ah, the blush returned 

"Talk to him Robbie," Glanni said gently, " Tell him what you told me, trust him with this."

\------------------------------

His dear Robbie in love.

And Robbie's Sportacus...

For he was Robbie's Sportacus for sure; Glanni had gotten to know him very well over the years, through Sportacus' letters to Íƥróttaálfurinn.

Glanni had been anxious at first; a numbered hero deciding to settle in the very hamlet Robbie had chosen; it seemed suspicious, and Glanni had been looking for ulterior motives. Robbie had time and again described LazyTown as a sleepy village, small, the biggest crime after Glanni's departure being the noisy children playing outdoors. _(Oh, an electing the most unsuitable bumbling mayor as their representative of course. Though that could also be their local tradition)_

But the Elf Glanni had gotten to know through Íƥróttaálfurinn's temporary displaced mail (mail-theft was such an ugly word. Something to do with the way theft was written possibly) was kind, compassionate, softhearted.

Sportacus' letters had been filled with tales of a sleepy little town, no crime, hardly no traffic, no bigger calamities than falling children and cats stuck in trees.  
_(Come to think of it, he hád been assuring Íƥróttaálfurin over and over again that the town was peaceful, no harm could befall him there)_  
A mischief-maker with amusing ploys but nothing dangerous, just seemingly intent on driving him out of town. Forever.  
Over time the villain had gotten a name and Sportacus had started to write about this Robbie Rotten, about his wonderful imagination and the joy he brought the children, and Sportacus, with his tricks and schemes. Glanni had destroyed the letter in which he speculated about Robbie having magic.

Later on there was concern in Sportacus' written words about Robbies insomnia, the notion that he suffered from depression, the social anxiety. Wanting to help but not knowing how.

Glanni had read both Robbies and Sportacus' letters; had seen their tentative friendship evolve into something more; detailing how they'd gotten past initial dislike and uncertainty, dealing with eachother's awkwardness, shyness, doubts, loneliness, worries... 

How they talked, argued, bantered, reasoned and encouraged. 

How they longed, hoped, wished for a love returned. 

\------------------------------

Glanni had been yearning for that too. For years. But there had been nothing in return when he had given his heart away. And it still hurt. Bruised and battered, bleeding him dry one tender, loving beat at the time.

\------------------------------


	6. Chapter 6

Íƥróttaálfurinn mulled over what to make for dinner, twirling his moustache as he took stock of the supplies in the kitchen. The ship had provided him with fresh fruit and someone had evidently made a trip to the supermarket for him. There being leeks and carrots in Robbie's pantry was decidedly out of character, taking into account the times Sportacus' had been disturbed enough by the man's dietary choices to write Íƥróttaálfurinn about it. _(Almost every letter. Sportacus took after their dad when it came to talking people's ear off about the benefits of healthy food. His songs were much catchier though)_

Discovering potatoes and onions in one of the cupboards Íƥróttaálfurinn was suddenly reminded of something. It had been during that first fateful week they'd met; Glanni had been doing community service and Íƥróttaálfurinn had been there to keep an eye on him. The man hadn't slept back then either, well, sparsely. But... Íƥróttaálfurinn distinctly remembered that he hád eaten. 

The kindhearted mayor had made soup, sharing it with everyone who was working to rebuild the town.  
Íƥróttaálfurinn recalled the look of distrust Glanni had had, as if he suspected them of playing a cruel trick on him and expecting them to yank his food away from him. Guarding his meal with watchful eyes, as he sat as far apart from them as he could get away with, and then digging it with obvious relish.  
There had been a hint of... something. A notion of dejection and wariness that had made Íƥróttaálfurinn extend his subsequent offer.

With that picture clear in mind Íƥróttaálfurinn decided to make a vegetable broth. It would be nice if he could entice Glanni to eat something substantial and nourishing for once. If not, well he could have it for lunch himself two days in a row, no hardship.

The smell of onions and garlic sizzling soon lured his unsuspecting mark to the kitchen. After watching silently from the doorway for a few moments Glanni sidled up to him, peering over his shoulder. Pleased that his carrot _(heh)_ seemed to work Íƥróttaálfurinn pushed his luck a bit more by feigning to be preoccupied with washing the celery while telling Glanni to either get away from the knives or to help and chop some vegetables.  
Not looking up he rejoiced at the sound of a knife hitting the cutting board in quick succession. After a while a bowl with finely chopped potatoes was slid into his view and after a heartbeat Íƥróttaálfurinn looked up, meeting Glanni's guarded face; but in his grey eyes a hint of apprehension, a flicker of.. a timid hope to be praised?

Íƥróttaálfurinn quickly looked away, the unexpected emotions too disquieting. He felt like he'd stumbled on a secret, one frail and insecure.  
His suddenly hoarse voice was low but still startlingly loud in the quiet kitchen, "Thank you," doggedly trying for normalcy he pressed on, " I didn't take you for someone to eat the potatoes skin to be honest. That's a surprisingly healthy choice actually, did you know that one potato eaten with skin provides 45 percent of the recommended daily..." 

He trailed of glimpsing Glanni's white knuckled grip on the pairing knife. It's spear point hadn't been the best choice for dicing potatoes Íƥróttaálfurinn reflected idly, while simultaneously despairingly wishing for his brain to return from wherever it had buggered off to. 

"I had to peel them first?" the dismay in Glanni's voice unmistakable.

"You dó know what potatoes are, right Glanni?" _(don't look at him, don't look at him, don't...)_

"Ofcourse I know what potatoes are!" the exasperated scoff restoring some semblance of normalcy between them, "I just never... cooked?" It sounded almost bashful.

"You never cooked potatoes?!" perhaps Íƥróttaálfurinn should have toned down a bit on the incredulity but then again, Glanni had known him for a long time, had in fact told him on more than one occasion _(over and above a dozen times)_ that he was rather pushy for someone who was supposed to be an encouraging do-gooder. _(The phrase militant over-active health-freak had been used. Amongst other, less flattering, wording)_

"I never cooked at all," Glanni appeared to have regrouped enough to drop that particular bomb with an elegant shrug, "There's no cooking on the run Íƥró."

"But surely when you were younger..?" 

"My sister was a wonderful cook, I loved her parsnip soup," and ah, Íƥróttaálfurinn knew that cajoling tone very well, "Can yóu make me parsnip soup Íƥró?"

But knowing that he was being sweet-talked into something didn't make it any less tempting to give in. And it wasn't as if he hadn't already been planning to cook for the charming reprobate. Oh, who was he kidding, he was going to make Glanni parsnip soup one way or another. He would make Glanni whatever he'd ask for. _(If only he'd ask)_

"Soup is ready in half an hour," seeing Glanni's delighted grin he added quickly, "vegetable soup. Be good and I'll make you parsnip soup tomorrow. Perhaps I'll even throw in some garlic bread."  
Glanni threw him a wink over his shoulder, "But darling, it's so good to be bad."

No matter how sternly he told himself that it had been a cheesy line, Íƥróttaálfurinn couldn't help but smile giddily at the carrots on his chopping board. 

 

\------------------------------

The kitchen became their meeting ground. That first day Glanni scuttled off, the bowl of soup clutched to his chest like an invaluable prize. No, more than that, Íƥróttaálfurinn had seen him with a crystal chandelier, this was far more careful.

The day after that Glanni snuck up Íƥróttaálfurinn as he was washing up after making some garlic bread. Not healthy in the least but he figured both Glanni and Robbie could use the extra calories, he'd seen how often they just seemed to forget to eat.  
One moment he reached up to put some cups away, the next Glanni sat on the counter next to him. Íƥróttaálfurinn was stubbornly going to deny his high-pitched shriek or startled jerk, the bump on his skull would be a bit more difficult to ignore. Well, one could try, denial was his favorite river after all. _(Skjálfandafljót came close, but the river dropping him down a freezing waterfall with his basket after being stranded had made him a bit colder towards it)_

He supposed hitting his head wouldn't help with his already jumbled thoughts. Ever since coming to this place his mind hadn't been... racing exactly, it was more like rambling. A weird chatty commentary which sounded disturbingly a bit like their old dad. If he wasn't careful he'd soon be sporting a questionable goatee and go around encouraging people to eat more raw fish.  
He shuddered in abhorrence and looked at his chopping board: nope, ingredients for soup, soup was good. Soup was cooked. 

Soup was for...Glanni.

Glanni who was looking at him with interest. 

Íƥróttaálfurinn was unfortunately getting used to feeling like an idiot in his vicinity by now. But still, he had hoped to impress the man for once. He wasn't sure what Glanni was gleaning from his expression but suddenly the dark-haired menace flashed him a warm smile and gestured at the hapless vegetables, "No potatoes today?" 

"No, there's cream in it though." It sounded even worse spoken out loud but Glanni gave him a pleased nod like he'd done something clever, noting, "You like that." 

"I do."

It was the mundanest of conversations but suddenly Íƥróttaálfurinn felt like jumping _(with joy, not his usual jumping. Glanni knew about his guilty pleasure when it came to food)_ ,  
"And parsnips," he picked one up, tossing it in the air, adding the others gradually until he was juggling all six of the roots.

It helped him get a hold on himself and he started to wonder whether he should perhaps tone it down a bit. No one liked a flaunt. _(Though... usually people asked him to show off a bit more. Asked, cheered... There had been those ten-thousand screaming women once...)_

Glanni seemed to sense his hesitance however, gave him a calculative smirk and baited,"Bet you won't be able to add in the bulbs." 

"Onions. Toss me one."

 

\------------------------------

They made soup. 

Eventually.

That is to say, Íƥróttaálfurinn cooked. Glanni made a general nuisance of himself, critiquing his cutting technique, complaining about the time it took the onions to brown, pestering Íƥróttaálfurinn for a taste. 

And standing close, so close. Almost touching. 

Glanni's sweet perfume in his nose, his warm breath on his cheek as he leaned over Íƥróttaálfurinn's shoulder.

For once Íƥróttaálfurinn's unreasonable mind decided to pay full attention, making him hyper-aware of every bewitching movement the oblivious crook made. 

The exquisite torture almost unbearable. Almost. 

Half an hour of tumultuous serenity. _(He considered burning the onions to hold on to it for just a bit longer)_

 

\------------------------------

 

The kitchen, cooking, it started as a distraction, a reprieve from the long long hours of worrying and keeping vigil over Sportacus.

And then it turned into something comfortable and warm, sunshine and contentment.  
Glanni sitting opposite Íƥróttaálfurinn at the kitchen table, staying for dinner this time. Relaxed, mild expression on his face as he ate his soup, eyes soft, seemingly far away in thought. 

It was the kind of peace Íƥróttaálfurinn had longed for for a long time; a sense of normalcy, companionable silence, happiness, the simple enjoyment of sharing a meal with Glanni. The fierce and guarded man allowing him to cook for him, allowing him to take care of him. Glanni trusting him with a different side of him; caring, mellow, lowering his defenses and showing his vulnerability. He'd been an unexpected comfort, easing Íƥróttaálfurinn's sorrows, his aid and care invaluable in Sportacus' convalescence.

As a numbered hero Íƥróttaálfurinn had been travelling to where ever he was needed, touching people lives for a short while and then moving on. Hundreds of lodgings, sleeping in the basket of balloon more often than not. Never a house of his own.

He'd been fine, not knowing what he was missing.

But here, in this unconventional house, in this unimaginable situation, with this man he'd lost his heart to, he realized what he had been missing for all these years. A home. A loved one to come home to. 

Subconsciously he had been aware of it but he'd been good at ignoring and repressing. Sportacus had been concerned about him; more than once telling him, begging him, to stop running and hiding from his problems. To face the truth, no matter how grim. To heal. To be whole.  
There wasn't thing that Sportacus wasn't willing to do. Helping someone who refused to be saved however, that was beyond Sportacus' slightly-above-average power. 

Not even his brother's faithful earnest heart could help Íƥróttaálfurinn. Íƥróttaálfurinn who was terrified of his feelings, terrified that he'd fall apart, terrified that he'd be broken beyond repair if he'd actually stop to acknowledged the loneliness, the heartache of his doomed feelings for Glanni.  
It was better to hopelessly, desperately love with an aching bleeding heart than to be frozen forever, with a bloodless lump in his chest and indifferent to the harsh world.

In this quiet kitchen, safe and sheltered from the cold and uncaring world, he tentatively dared to hope, dared to dream.

Dared to wish for the warmth of a home, their home. 

\------------------------------


	7. Chapter 7

Glanni seemed to be hiding from view, a soft pink mist swirling around his hands. Íƥróttaálfurinn peeked over his shoulder into the bedroom and noticed the same sheer shimmer around Robbie. Glanni met Íƥróttaálfurinn's questioning stare and offered as an explanation to the raised eyebrows, “He’s been up for four days now, he needs to sleep.”

Íƥróttaálfurinn looked at the younger man again and noticed how his eyes slowly drifted shut, his head pillowed on his arms which rested on the bed.

“Okay, give it a few more minutes, then help me get him in bed. He’s going to get a crick in his neck this way.” 

“You couldn’t get him to sleep naturally?” 

“Nah, not with you in the house.”

Glanni cautiously tucked Robbie in after Íƥróttaálfurinn helped settle the bespelled man on the bed. Feeling like he intruded the lingering Íƥróttaálfurinn averted his eyes from the quietly caring scene and no longer solely focused on his brother he noticed a picture on the dresser. A couple with two children. One a teenager, the other a toddler. The woman had very familiar grey eyes, dark hair, a broad smile. The man, Íƥróttaálfurinn saw the likeness with Robbie clearly.

A pale hand snatched the picture away; Glanni, as stealthily as ever, had snuck up on him.

Íƥróttaálfurinn half expected a sneer, a snarl, but the other man just studied the picture silently, a half smile on his face.

“Those are Robbie’s parents?” the Elf asked tentatively after a minute or so. 

Glanni looked up, “Yes, my sister Sóley and her husband Johann. She was a bit older than me.”

He put the picture back on the dresser and Íƥróttaálfurinn looked at the teenager in the picture; younger, happier, but unmistakably Glanni.

“I lived with her after our parents died,” the other man offered and then walked away.


	8. Chapter 8

Two more days passed in relative peace, that is, apart from a decent amount of singing and dancing. Accurate portrayal is important after all. 

\------------------------------  
Íƥróttaálfurinn watched Robbie's inspired song and dance-number after finishing whatever he had been fiddling with. (It looked like a cross between a vacuum cleaner and a blender. He had been talking about jelly donut juice or something similar earlier)

Glanni joined him as he leant on the safety-rail, clapping enthusiastically after a complicated twirl and shuffle.

The self-proclaimed lazy man was far more energetic and agile than Sportacus' letters had ever indicated. 

Íƥróttaálfurinn noted, "Robbie sure has a flair for the dramatics, doesn't he?" 

Glanni gave Íƥróttaálfurinn a look, "Í raised the kid Íƥró." 

Fair enough.

Íƥróttaálfurinn then clearly remembered his brother making a sandwich in the most unnecessary complicated way. "Sportacus is the same," he offered in return.

Glanni grinned commiserating, "They are a good fit."

Robbie suddenly materialized next tot hem,"What's a good fit?"

Unflappable Glanni gestured, "This catsuit, it's a good fit." Robbie gave him a disparaging look, "It has a butt-flap Glanni."

Íƥróttaálfurinn wasn't sure if that was an endorsement or not. He rather liked the suit.

\------------------------------

“I didn’t know he could sing,” Glanni gestured, “well, I knew that he could do these annoyingly cheerful and energetic routines about the virtues of exercise and eating your greens. Just not this.”  
The song was hauntingly beautiful, sad, wistful. 

Glanni had never seen Íƥróttaálfurinn still like this, his blue eyes fixed on his unconscious brother, limp hand cradled in his strong ones with infinite tenderness. 

Robbie seemed to be more interested in taking notes on the pronunciation of Elvish words he'd thusfar only seen in writing. Glanni appreciated Robbies practicality, sense and sensibility was a classic for a reason. 

\------------------------------

Íƥróttaálfurinn gave Robbie a slightly worried look, "He ehm... he doesn't have the magic to double himself, does he?"

"Glanni? Why?" 

Íƥróttaálfurinn gestured with his head to the open door through which the murmur of an rousing duet could be heard. There was no mistaking it for someone else but Glanni, despite him singing both the roles in a decent falsetto and warm bariton.  
The mystery was that the sound of each of the two sung parts seemed to come from two very different directions.

"That? No, that's just him singing. The costume chances are impressive though."

\------------------------------

"Why? Why? I mean why?"

"Three excellent questions."

"He'd be there so much faster if he cut out all the flipping and jumping."

"Beats me kid, I always thought that it had something to do with him being a Sportself."

"That's just what they're called."

After a beat of silence.

"Sportacus is the same though."

"See."

Glanni was silent for a bit; "The most baffling part is that they actually think they are being inconspicuous though."

"Like anyone is going to tell them that they aren't. It would be like kicking a puppy."

"Íƥróttaálfurinn isn't like a puppy."

"Badger dog?"

"Because he's stubborn and barely housebroken?"

"I was thinking short. But that works too."

"Points for not making a wiener joke though."

\-----------------------------

Despite Sportacus still being unconscious it was calm, comfortable. Of course it wasn't going to last. 

Not with any combination of two out of the three of them.   
Whichever duo, they surely would have been calamitous anyway. 

Oh, let's be real, individually they had caused enough mayhem in the past by simply being on their own. 

But this time it started with Íƥróttaálfurinn and Glanni.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, those were references to Cabin Pressure, Doctor Who and Death of the Cog. Usual disclaimers apply, I'm not clever enough to make that up ;-P


	9. Chapter 9

It had been a stupid action, Íƥróttaálfurinn was honest enough to admit that. But he’d been curious, the bits and pieces of a story he’d gathered from Robbie and Glanni not fitting with the image of the man he thought he’d known for years. Had loved for years.

He had to know, had pulled some strings to get all information available in court-cases about this Robbie Rotten. He’d read the files, at first not quite comprehending what was in them. It was so…dark. Glanni never seemed to have a care in the world, laughing at rules and institutions. Independent and all alone.

And all that time there had been this man. A boy. 

He had meant to ask some questions, to understand Glanni better, but somehow, as so often had been the case with the two of them, it had escalated in a blazing row;

"You took a traumatized child out of the custody of social services!"

"Of course I did," Glanni screamed, "he was all that was left of my family!"   
Furiously he wiped at his eyes, "You saw the report of the crime scene Íƥró, you know that that wasn't a burglary gone wrong. I had to keep him safe!"

\--------------------------------

The screaming made Robbie hurry towards the kitchen, worried but not overly so. When Glanni fell silent it would be much worse.

Superficially Glanni seemed livid but Robbie knew him well enough to see behind his mask. Glanni was scared, vulnerable... Feeling betrayed.

He stepped between the two, sheltering Glanni behind him,

"You," he pointed at Íƥróttaálfurinn, squaring his shoulders and drawing up to his full height, "out!" 

"You," he glared over his shoulder at Glanni, "sit! You made my headache worse."

He scowled at the lingering Íƥróttaálfurinn who looked rather guilty, "Go, look after your brother. "

The Elf obeyed and Robbie was left with his relative. Pale, hectic flush high on his cheekbones, studiously avoiding all eye-contact... -Hot cocoa- Robbie decided -they'd need it from the looks of it.

He spurred into action, waiting for Glanni to speak. The half-Fae had folded in on himself, sitting on the ground, arms around his knees, face hiding.

"Is it true?" Glanni finally asked quietly.

"Is what true?" Robbie said mildly, holding out a mug of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and marshmallows. When it was ignored he put it within Glanni's reach, casting a worried look at the dark head. Glanni wasn't one to reject the joys of a sugar-high.

"Íƥró requested the case file. Is it true about that night? You never said... I assumed..."

"What night Glanni?" Robbie had a feeling where this was going and sat next to him.

"That last night, when they were... The file said you saw them. I thought you never went upstairs."

Ah.

"I'd snuck downstairs and had been playing under the table. I must have fallen asleep. You falling down the stairs woke me up. They'd left when I'd gotten to the hallway. I saw you and went upstairs to get mum and dad. But... you know... So I went back to you. And then you gained consciousness."

Glanni's eyes were fixed on him, wide, horror in them, "You saw."

Robbie nodded, "I knew they were dead."

Glanni hadn't been there in the end, the executioners had dragged him out, in his struggle he'd fallen down the stairs. He hadn't seen Sóley and Johann.

The ambulance had taken him away, the police asked him to identify them later, in the morgue.

He'd seen the photo's of the crime-scene ten years later, breaking into the archives for them. He hadn't been able to close his eyes for weeks without seeing... that.

"But you never said... I thought you'd been spared."

"No. I told the police when they first arrived. And they took me away from you. They took me to the hospital to see you, you were asleep I think. I told you what I'd seen and the person who'd taken me to see you took me away from you. So I never told another person afterwards. I did not want to be taken from you again."

"And you weren't," a hand clasped Robbie's tightly. 

"No, I wasn't," Robbie agreed, "You kept me safe. Kept me from the police and the hospitals where they would separate us. That's why I always wanted to treat your wounds myself."

Glanni looked at Robbie in abject horror, "Kid, those were some fucked up conclusions you drew."

Robbie offered a meagre smile, "I was five years old. My reasoning skills have improved somewhat since." He was silent for a moment, "But I always knew you'd keep me safe. And you did."

" You needed help, therapy, counseling... You never slept..." 

"Shhh."

"I did you wrong," Glanni's voice wavered, anguish in his eyes.

"No. You loved me, for all three of you. You were my mum, my dad, my uncle Glanni. You did everything you could for me and you kept me safe and raised me right and proper. You were fifteen years old Glanni."

And finally Glanni cried, for his sister, his brother-in-law, his orphaned cousin. For his own lost innocence. 

Robbie pulled him to his chest, humming a half-forgotten lullaby while Glanni’s tears soaked his striped vest, his big hand soothingly carding through dark cropped hair. More silver every time he saw Glanni. His mother had been an early grayer too but he himself took after his father. He wondered idly when he'd find the first silver strand in his own dark curls. He was already older than his father had ever been.

Eventually the storm passed and Glanni hung his head exhausted, “You know I love you Robbie, don’t you?”

“I know,” Robbie said gently, “And know that I love you when I tell you to go and live Glanni. I want you to find peace. I don’t want you to be alone. Go talk to Íƥróttaálfurinn, talk. No screaming. No accusations. Íƥró, who has always believed that there is good in you. And, who I might add, I have believed to have loved you for over a decade now. Seriously Glanni, all these years I thought all your schemes and chases were some weird form of foreplay!"  
Glanni snorted through his tears. 

Robbie was relieved to see Glanni settle a bit and resumed more serious, “Have some faith in Íƥróttaálfurinn and trust him with the truth. Tell him about the good and the bad and meet his questions with honesty. Please Glanni, you’ve endured enough ”

\-----------------------------


	10. Chapter 10

Íƥróttaálfurinn sat next to his brother's bed, head in his hands. He'd screwed up, destroying their tentative truce, his silent hopes, by being his impulsive fool-hardy self. 

A soft sound made him look up, already knowing who it was, "Glanni."

Glanni seemed apprehensive, eyes red-rimmed, his voice quiet, “We need to talk. I... Can we talk, please?”

Íƥróttaálfurinn had never really been able to deny Glanni anything he pleaded for and now, with him this subdued before him he couldn’t say anything but a gentle, ”Of course Glanni.”

They had gone to the kitchen, it seemed right somehow, and Íƥróttaálfurinn watched Glanni fidget for a moment, then visibly steel himself, “I promised Robbie to tell you what happened, how we came to be who we are. No lies, no omissions.”

Glanni handed Íƥróttaálfurinn a photograph. Íƥróttaálfurinn recognized Glanni’s family, slightly younger, an elderly man in the middle holding baby Robbie. “My... our father,” Glanni offered, “he married our mother, who was Fae. She died in childbirth. He took us from the Court and left to live among humans.”

-Glanni had his smile- Íƥróttaálfurinn thought.

“He had a heart-attack when I was twelve. Sóley and Johann raised me after his death. Sóley had some magic, it came natural to her. She tried to teach me but we didn’t quite understand how it worked.” He gestured vaguely, “Well, you’ve seen what I can do.”

Glanni smiled softly as he stared at the photograph. “She was kind, thought the best of everyone she met. A heart too big for her. She contacted our grandmother, wanted to share her family, her great grandchild with her. We hadn’t kept in touch, didn’t know about the infighting in the Court. Didn’t know the Huldufolk had started to fear humans. In their eyes Sóley had committed an unforgivable violation of the rules of secrecy by marrying a human and telling him about her ancestry.”

Íƥróttaálfurinn recalled the gruesome sight, the arrangement of the bodies... "It was an honor-killing," he said flatly. 

"Honor," Glanni spat, "the Court murdered my sister for marrying a human. They couldn't find Robbie that night. What else could I have done but take him, run and hide?! He was five years old."  
His voice broke and he hid his face in his hands.

"And you were but fifteen," Íƥróttaálfurinn said softly.  
 _(And there had been so much death in his young life. He'd been a traumatized child himself and Íƥróttaálfurinn had accused him...)_

Glanni composed himself and resumed, "We had nowhere to stay, lived on the streets. I couldn't get a job, not with Robbie... I couldn't let him on his own for days." 

Glanni raised his chin defiant, "So I learned to steal to keep us fed. Broke into empty houses for shelter. Finally I'd saved some money with which we could rent a small room, no questions asked. And Robbie could go back to school. I pretended to be his father, his mother, whoever his teacher wanted to see.  
Robbie thought it was all a game; disguises, fake names...”

Íƥróttaálfurinn considered what he had seen in Glanni’s file and added what the man had told him, “Something else happened,” he said thoughtfully. “You were taking care of Robbie, presumably you continued your petty crime to support the two of you. But something else happened when Robbie was… eleven? Twelve? You got pretty famous overnight, they called you a master criminal. And yet, after some years you got caught, went to jail, escaped and re-appeared here, in LazyTown.”

“It was magic,” Glanni sounded bitter. 

Íƥróttaálfurinn waited, unsure what Glanni meant with that statement. 

Glanni looked up and laughed mirthlessly, “I thought Fae were the ones to curse humans. But we were cursed by them. We were cursed by our heritage. We thought we were safe, we had made us a home. And then Robbie’s magic manifested.”

The silence dragged on and when it became apparent that Glanni wasn’t going to elaborate Íƥróttaálfurinn finally asked, “How?”

Glanni rubbed the palms of his hands over his face, “Robbie was a sweet kid. Shy, awkward. Interests that other kids thought odd. I told him over and over to keep his head down, things would be better. They bullied him, and he let it happen.. But I hadn’t meant it like that. Didn’t mean that he...” 

“Of course not Glanni,” Íƥróttaálfurinn gently interrupted the other man's frantic explanation. 

“So, he lashed out one day,” Íƥróttaálfurinn guessed. “He did,” Glanni affirmed, “not a spark of magic up till then. But they hit him that day. I went to the schoolyard that night, all windows in a mile radius had shattered.”

“And you took him and ran,” Íƥróttaálfurinn surmised, “Once again leaving everything behind. Robbie scared out of his wits by powers he didn’t understand nor could control. You unable to teach him.”  
“And once again we were on the radar of the Court. I decided on a permanent shelter, hidden, protected by magical wards. So I needed money, and lots of it.”

“ So you came to LazyTown and ran your scam here.” 

Glanni sat up a bit, flashing him a wicked grin, mischief dancing in his eyes, “I ran a scam here when I met you. But it was not what you are thinking.”

“You sold canned food,” Íƥróttaálfurinn frowned.

“Yes, but to what purpose?” 

Strangely enough Íƥróttaálfurinn was glad to hear something of the Glanni he’d known for years, all bravado, fast talking his way out of every situation and running circles around him.

“To make money?”

Glanni tss-kd, “Íƥró, I was friends with the president. Why would I run a scam that would yield little to no profit, even if it had worked, in a small town? There were much easier ways to get a much bigger profit. No, we already had all the coin we needed.” 

Íƥróttaálfurinn had looked into Glanni’s earlier crimes after his arrest and had been met with a long list of madcap schemes, him dazzling the masses with glamour and wit. But compared to the LazyTown scheme quite harmless. He’d assumed at the time that it had been him turning it up a notch but in later years there had never been anything as heinous as that fateful act.  
When it became clear that Íƥróttaálfurinn was lost for ideas Glanni spread out his arms and gestured, “Íƥró love, an underground lair? An underground lair which's existence no one questions?”

Bewildered Íƥróttaálfurinn looked around, “What... how…??”

Glanni beamed, “Robbie designed it. I used my skills to get the builders here unseen. I ran that scam as a distraction, no one noticed the construction taking place.”

“That’s why you looked that gaunt,” Íƥróttaálfurinn realized and frowned, “you’d used your magic to get the laborers here to do the work without them knowing the location of the building.”

“Not the point here sugar! We built thís under the nose of the townsfolk and no one realized. We had someone very gifted erect the wards and teach us how to reinforce and maintain them. Money and influence can buy a lot of things.”

He fell silent and Íƥróttaálfurinn took his time processing all of it. He had to admit Glanni was quite as clever as he thought himself to be.

“So you gave Robbie a home,” he finally said, “you got him to safety, protected from the Court.”

“He’s a brilliant inventor. He quickly made a name for himself, he amassed his fortune quickly. And legally may I add. He’s a good kid, a good man.”

Íƥróttaálfurinn assessed the Fae and finally dared to ask what he had been wanting to know for years, “And you Glanni, where is your home?”

Glanni met his gaze calmly, honesty in his eyes as he answered, “Apart from Robbie, you are the only constant in my life.”

He looked vulnerable in a way Íƥróttaálfurinn had never seen before. In the past years he had often likened him to a feral cat; fierce and tough, not always getting out of situations unscathed but always regrouping and moving on.

But now he was standing still, holding his ground as he opened up his heart, “I had lost my way when I met you.   
I had managed to find that for Robbie, gave him a safe home. And I doing so I lost my anchor, my only support. I was wishing for something true and unchanging in my life, I was so desperate for something good, that I was ready to tear the world apart to find it. And you stopped me. You stopped me from getting lost forever.”

This town had been his worst nightmares come true: a society claiming to be good and helpful to each other but without much thought they'd thrown an innocent child in jail. Nothing to worry about, no one will be left behind. They'd proved to be as gullible and hateful as he ever had thought the world to be. He had been dancing on the edge, basically telling the townsfolk that he was the criminal but they didn't want to hear that.

Íƥróttaálfurinn was watching him silently, patiently waiting, steadfast as ever and Glanni couldn't stop his words, not that he even wanted to, in the face of that unfaltering kindness.

"You showed up, an honorable righteous hero. Your mere presence made the townsfolk be better men," Glanni laughed, "Though to me you were a bit of a jackass, cocky, relentless. Popping up all over the place." 

Íƥróttaálfurinn grinned, "To be fair, I was a bit of a show-off, the arrogance of youth and all."

"Yet you didn't throw me in jail, there was never any trial. You made me repair the damage I'd done. Made me apologize to everyone I'd wronged. And then you let me go, after asking if I had anywhere to go and if I had means to get there. I was grateful for that but still didn't believe that anyone could good like that.  
But over the years you made it evident time and again that you thought me capable of change, of goodness, and that trust, that certainty, it brought peace and quiet, it filled the emptiness in me and chased away the despair and loneliness."

Íƥróttaálfurinns heart was aching for Glanni, for all the sorrow, the grief he'd suffered. For his desperate search for something true and lasting in the world. Íƥróttaálfurinn had never been good with words, had never quite found the words to express his feelings. And yet, this once...

"Glanni," he stepped closer to the man, "Glanni, my wonderful Glanni. Don't you know I've loved you for years now?" 

He gently took the other man’s hand and held it to his own heart, “This heart has been yours for so long. It only ever belonged to you. I've never been good with words, not in my own language and even worse in this one. But you know me Glanni, you know what I am trying to say here. I love you."

Glanni was watching him wide-eyed, speechless, trembling hand clutching Íƥróttaálfurinn's.

Íƥróttaálfurinn's smile was tender as he brought up his other hand to cradle Glanni's jaw, tilted his head a little. To overcome their height difference he rose upon his tiptoes and then whispered gently, "Can we stop talking now? Can I kiss you please Glanni?"   
The other man nodded mutely and Íƥróttaálfurinn leaned in and kissed him oh so sweetly.

It wasn't fireworks, burning quickly and gone in a blink. No, it was the warmth of home, those soft insistent lips intent on driving away the cold.

It was the culmination of years of pining, of secret wishes and tentative dreams. Not perfect, not by far, but neither of them was perfect after all.   
It was an overwhelming exploration, a thrilling revelation, the breathtaking end to a search that had lasted for years. Their hunger, their starvation, their loneliness, it burned in the blaze.

They finally parted a little, fire in their heart, a lasting glow in their eyes. Glanni smiled tenderly, touching his forehead to Íƥróttaálfurinn's. "Mine," the softest of whispers, "my love."

Íƥróttaálfurinn wanted to jump, wanted to flip, wanted to stay in their embrace forever. Wanted... this. This. Almost reverently Íƥróttaálfurinn exhaled, "My Glanni." 

His Glanni.

Íƥróttaálfurinn nudged Glanni to tilt his head a bit and once again they were lost to the world. At long last Glanni pulled away, eyes shining and laughing breathlessly. Something primal in Íƥróttaálfurinn was pleased to see bruises bloom on his pale neck, his marks on the man he belonged to. 

He went in to kiss Glanni once more but the man stopped him, gentle and adoring but steadfast, "We could have been doing this for years."

Íƥróttaálfurinn waited him out, Glanni still warm and relaxed in his arms, no sign of him wanting to make a run for it.

"We could have been doing this for years if only we'd talked," it sounded thoughtful, wondering.

Íƥróttaálfurinn nodded, waiting to see where he was going with that statement.

"Do you think we can make this work? I mean, there's so much history between us, so many arguments, so many things unspoken."

Íƥróttaálfurinn's depression, Glanni's trauma, they'd touched upon their issues but had not fully disclosed everything. Not to mention the complications of Glanni's life of crime and Íƥróttaálfurinn's drive to uphold the law.

Íƥróttaálfurinn thought about it. Faced the harsh reality and seriously thought about it.

"We can," he finally stated, sure of it, "Your brains, my brawn, our stubbornness. We can make it work. I'm willing to fight for this. We can do this. It's a different kind of fight than we're used to but we can do this, together.   
If confronting our problems is what it's going to take, to share those things, work through them, to talk, really talk, about them, I'm willing to do so. But I need you by my side, fighting next to me. I'll be your champion but I also need you to come to my rescue when I get lost in my head. No more secrets, no more holding back. We'll start from here. Here where we finally talked."

Glanni considered all that, his watchful eyes never leaving Íƥróttaálfurinn's as he spoke, searching for any hint of a doubt in the Elf.

Finding none he offered, "We can't go back to our old lives Íƥró, not if we're going to make this work." 

"We'll figure something out. We've gotten this far, I honestly think the worst is behind us now.You're the sharpest, most resourceful man I know, you'll think of something. Or I can... well, I can pick Robbie's brains, he's pretty clever too. We're not in a hurry. We've got time." He smiled, thrilled with the prospect, "Wé have got time."

After a heartbeat Glanni gave him a brilliant and playful smile, "My dearest Íƥróttaálfurinn, can we stop talking now? Can I kiss you?"

Glanni's eager mouth, those pink lips, descended on his once more cutting short Íƥróttaálfurinn's delighted laugh.


	11. Chapter 11

Blue eyes finally opened after five days, and instantly Sportacus tried to sit up. Agonizing pain from the left side of his torso quickly made him abandon that instinct and he settled for laying back and gazing at the unfamiliar ceiling while he waited for the white-hot burn to pass.

Much more careful he set about taking inventory of his injuries; his right hand finding bandages covering his left shoulder and torso. 

Turning his head after a while he spotted a pair of feet in very familiar shoes, his gaze traveled up long legs clad in striped trousers. Robbie. A warm smile on Sportacus' face he watched his competitor, who was settled in an uncomfortable looking chair, sound asleep.

He remembered the terrifying circumstances in the forest, the panic, sharp claws viciously tearing his flesh apart, blacking out… Apparently Robbie had rescued him and taken him home. Judging by the purple blankets he was snuggled up in, the very comfortable bed he was in clearly belonged to the inventor.

Robbie slept so little, insomnia-plagued as he was, Sportacus wasn’t going to wake him and was content with watching the other man for awhile. His eyes drifting shut now and then he wasn’t aware how much time did pass but finally Robbie stirred and woke up. Sportacus grinned at the sheer Robbie-ness of it: stretching, yawning, boisterous as ever after his serenity in slumber. 

Robbie’s grey eyes widened comically as he spotted the attentive Elf and tripping over his own feet he scrambled over to the bed. Warm and tender hands reaching out for him, one settling on his right shoulder, the other on his cheek, Robbie breathed, “Oh, thank heavens,” relieve and joy clear on his handsome face. Sportacus blushed in the face of that stark affection, the shine of that big overjoyed grin.

Suddenly Robbie straightened up and ran out of the room. Puzzled Sportacus watched his retreating back, slightly hurt at his sudden departure when they so clearly had been having a moment. A moment he had been waiting for for a long time. 

A shout in the distance, “For goodness sake Glanni, put a shirt on! Not in my house!” and then the perplexing sight of his brother dashing onto the bedroom.

“Íƥró?”

Íƥróttaálfurinn hurried over to the bed, hovering unsure for a moment, then settling for clasping his brother’s hand and touching his forehead to Sportacus’, “Bless the gods, you’re alright,” his voice sounded shaky, strength barely above a whisper. 

“Íƥró? What is going on?!” completely bewildered Sportacus tried to catch Íƥróttaálfurinn's eye and after finally managing to do so he caught the tears spilling across the other Elf’s cheeks.  
Alarmed he tried to push himself up on his elbows but with an aggrieved cry he fell back in the plush pillows. Breathing harshly through the throbbing pain he distantly heard his brother’s anxious voice.  
After some excruciating moments Sportacus opened his eyes to be met by the sight of three men; Íƥróttaálfurinn, Robbie and someone... who looked a lot like Robbie.

The unfamiliar man drawled, “Welcome back darling, you had these two very worried for the last couple of days.”

Still thrown by the sight of his brother Sportacus looked to Robbie for answers, an action which caused the unknown man to grin widely. With wonder Sportacus watched as Robbie started to blush, and doggedly refusing to meet his eyes mumbled, “I found you in the woods, Glanni helped to wrangle the magic that was left in your wounds and he decided to bring your brother with him.” 

Sportacus looked back to his brother who was crouched down next to his bed, decided to focus on the most pressing part of that sentence and asked hesitantly, “This is your Glanni?” 

Now all three men were blushing but Íƥróttaálfurinn nodded with a soft expression on his face, “This is my Glanni.”

Glanni gave the Elf a small salute and, taking Robbie by the shoulder, dragged him out of the room, effectively leaving the two brothers alone.

Sportacus looked at the empty doorway and then back to Íƥróttaálfurinn, “Seriously Íƥró, what on earth is going on?!”

\--------------------------------------

Trust Sportacus to wake only after all the drama had passed Robbie sourly thought. The Elf had gone about it as he did all things, sound asleep one moment, awake and moving the next.  
Not literally moving of course, but active and alert as always, concerned about the town and the health and safety of everyone in it. Currently urging his brother to find what had attacked him, 

“There were two wounded unicorns, my crystal alerted me…” 

“And of course they attacked you,” Glanni interjected with an eyeroll, “surely you know they áre dangerous?”

“What? No, they didn’t attack me, why would they... Anyhow, there was a Greisnnaur going in for the kill and I managed to distract it long enough for the unicorns to get away. And then it went after me,” Sportacus gestured at his wounds. “Luckily Robbie came to rescue me.”

Robbie had his eyes firmly fixed on the ground, his ears red. He felt Glanni's gleeful and soppy look in his direction, no need to see it too. Glanni was already far too invested in his relationship with Sportacus, as if he hadn't had his own portion of relationshipdrama in the last day.

Íƥróttaálfurinn got up, “A Greisnnaur this far south, that’s dangerous. We have been very fortunate these last few days that there was no repeat attack. I’m going after it.”

Sportacus started to protest but Glanni shushed him, “I’m going with him, relax sweetheart.”

For some weird reason this calmed Sportacus down a bit. _(When had Glanni ever been reassuring to anyone before? Apart from to Robbie ofcourse. Sportacus was getting a little better when it came to skeptisisim but this was a big setback when it came to honing his survivalskills )_

Sportacus basically batted his eyes at his brother, laying it on endearingly “Can you check up on the unicorns too?”

Glanni gave him a look, “You áre aware that the whole virgins and unicorns thing is not a fairytale? Apart from you there is no one in the room who is able to approach them.” 

_(Not looking, not looking, not looking... Oh, who was he kidding , he wanted to know!)_

As he had always speculated Sportacus was indeed a lovely vision when he blushed.


	12. Chapter 12

Robbie hadn't really gotten to know Íƥróttaálfurinn over the past days. But he had gotten to know him through Glanni over the years, unapproachable Glanni who so obviously thought the world of this Elf. And for Glanni Robbie had to brave and speak with Íƥróttaálfurinn about a very pressing matter.

When furtively calling his name the Elf halted and Robbie motioned him to follow. He was more cautious than his brother, Robbie had to give him that. He did raise an eyebrow but stayed silent when Robbie implored the door of he storage room where he'd led them to be sealed, to keep every word that was said from being overheard. 

Robbie fidgetted, tapped his foot, tried to articulate what worried him, what needed to be said before they went to scout for the Greisnnaur,

"Those woods, they are old Fae territory. The Court is long gone but it's echo still lingers. Glanni is... Glanni isn't... keen on the Courts. I know he told you what happened to us. I don't know how he's going to react to the residual magic but if he...panics, freezes, I don't know... Tell him I'm safe, tell him it helped me get Sportacus home. I'm safe and it won't harm me. Got that? It comforted me, helped me."

Robbies eyes were pleading with Íƥróttaálfurinn, willing, hoping him to understand his uneasiness about Glanni encountering unfamiliar magic. There was no predicting what he would do when encountering Fae magic this close to Robbie's home.

Glanni had never spoken about the traumatic events of that day, had never really dealt with the sudden loss, had never recovered. He'd buried it deep, sealed away but never forgotten.   
Fear of losing his last living relative in similar horrifying circumstances had controlled his actions.  
The huge and terrifying responsibility of keeping Robbie alive and safe had kept him going.  
But it had also kept him from healing.

Over the years Robbie had gotten to recognize the clear signs of Glanni's problems and worries; his anxiety and distress when it came to Robbie's well-being and safety, the sadness, sleeping problems, the avoidance and unwillingness to talk about certain topics. The refusal to talk about the death of his sister and brother-in-law.

So, when old and shrewd enough to hide it from Glanni, Robbie had gone about it with a difference approach. He was ingenious. He'd gotten nothing from the police records, the murders unsolved, no suspects.  
He'd thought about Glanni's terror when his Fae inheritance showed and then delved into the world of the Huldufolk. Had looked into the circumstances and found testimonies regarding his parent's death from their side. He'd been very very careful; leaving intricate false trails, using many fictitious identities.

And he'd gotten to know about a very shameful time for the Huldu; fear, hate, bigotry, extremism and bias. Courts had been feuding, had been torn apart over their incompatible perspectives. Eventually they'd settled, peaceful towards the outside world, relentlessly tracking and punishing the dissidents. Mournfully wanting to make amends, offering what little they could in recompense for the unforgivable killings.

Robbie had altered the records, erased every trace of the existence of Glanni and himself from them. 

Robbie had searched for a memento next, something tangible to remember his parents by. He wasn't able to recall his parents faces, he'd been too little . He only remembered the blood, the horror.

A few pictures was all that was left of their happy and warm home, Robbie had taken them. 

He had never been in contact with the Fae again.

\----

Glanni had found the pictures eventually, Robbie hadn't tried to keep them hidden from him in the first place. The photo of his beautiful mother with her radiant smile, the portraits of their small family; it were treasures he wanted to keep in sight. Wanted to share them with Glanni, something golden and bright.

Glanni had never asked about them, never demanded to know where Robbie had gotten them.

Robbie hadn't pushed, this was the one thing he could do for Glanni. Could not do for Glanni.  
Could not save him from.

But Íƥróttaálfurinn could.

Not because he was a hero. Sure, it would help, Robbie knew that one did not simply become a hero by being athletically inclined and accomplishing impressive feats of strength and agility. The numbered heroes were also well-versed in counseling; recognizing, referring and dealing with people with mental health problems. Glanni needed that kind of support.

Glannin needed Íƥróttaálfurinn because he loved him. And because he was loved by him in return.

He needed someone strong and devoted by his side. Someone willing, wanting to help. No matter how much it would hurt. Someone who knew not to take the inevitable lashing out personal but recognize it for the pain and vulnerability it was. _(The likelihood that he was going to push a caring healthy, happy lifestyle on Glanni with regular meals, sleep, and, ehm, let's call it relaxation... that was also going to help)_

\----

Íƥróttaálfurinn gave Robbie a nod that he preferred to interpret as reassuring and said in that sincere tone he had in common with his brother, "I'll do that, thank you. You know we finally talked about our past. I know he's not...okay. Don't you think it would be better if he stayed here?"

Robbie snorted, "As if anything could keep Glanni from anything he'd set his heart on."

Robbie firmly refused to hazard a guess as to why Íƥróttaálfurinn answered with a distinctly soppy smile, "No, nothing can keep him from that."   
He appreciated Íƥróttaálfurinn's no-nonsense addition however, relieved by the obvious commitment and realistic insight;  
"We promised we'd both work on our problems though, confront our past and traumas. We've committed to that. It's the only way our relationship is going to work and Glanni is going to keep that promise. Knows he has to if he wants to keep me by his side."

Íƥróttaálfurinn gave Robbie a considering look, "It would be good for him to face his...concerns about magic here, among loved ones in a safe environment. Don't you think?"

It most certainly was. But not in Robbie's house. Glanni was never going to worry Robbie, would not allow himself to be vulnerable near him. Would fight to be strong.

"There's a house that I own, here in LazyTown. You should take him there after your trip. You'll have privacy there, Glanni would feel like burdening me here, coming back here isn't going to help with his recovery. You can talk there, take your time. Stay as long as you need, he's not going to get better overnight. He added after a beat, "I'd like it if he stayed. If the two of you stayed." 

And more exasperated, "I thought you two had been together for years already actually," seeing Íƥróttaálfurinn 's uncomfortable expression he hurried to say, "Glanni was happier after he met you, more stable. You're good for him."

"He's good for me," 

It sounded too content, too intimate for Robbie who felt very awkward and strained after their whole conversation. But for Glanni he'd gone through far more distressing ordeals.  
For Glanni who they both loved so dearly.

"Now, go away, please?"

\----------------------------


	13. Chapter 13

With Íƥróttaálfurinn and Glanni gone for the day, and presumably longer, they were left to their own devices. 

Robbie tinkered in his workshop, trying to keep the noise down _(the thing with the chainsaw had been an honest mistake)_ coming in at regular intervals to bring Sportacus honeyed tea and fruit, the raise of an imperious eyebrow chastising Sportacus when he habitually stopped eating after a single bite.

Sportacus napped most of the morning, still gradually replenishing his energy. He finally woke, finding Robbie next to him, sitting on top of the comforter, a book in his lap. 

Heedful of his injuries Sportacus sat up, accepting another cup of tea after he was settled comfortably with his back against the headboard. 

"It's nice to finally meet Glanni after all these years," Sportacus voiced after they'd sat in amiable silence for a while.

Robbie gave him a bemused look, "It is?" 

"Yes, Íƥró has been writing about him for years, it's nice to finally meet the... boyfriend? partner? of your older brother."

Robbie couldn't help but laugh at that and Sportacus looked rather affronted.

"I made the same mistake," Robbie soothed, "I thought that they'd been together for almost a decade. But apparently they have just been pining after each other for all this time and they only got together yesterday..."

"What?!" 

"They failed to communicate some very important things and as a result they both thought the other didn't love them in return."

"What?!!"" 

"But I thought..." In fact Sportacus had thought that when Íƥró had been happily in a long-term relationship with a criminal and it had seemed to work out that there was the possibility for him...

"Is Glanni family to you Robbie?" It was rather obvious by resemblance alone but he was curious of to the exact relation between the two.

"Yes, he is…was...is? my mother's brother," Robbie had never had to explain his bond with Glanni before and struggled now. His angry outburst at Íƥróttaálfurinn had been mainly about Glanni and him taking care of Robbie, not Robbies connection to Glanni.  
"My parents died when I was little," he finally settled on, "Glanni raised me." 

"I'm sorry," Sportacus said, not knowing what he had expected but surely not this and then stuttered hopelessly, " About your parents I mean, Glanni seems very nice."

Robbie was silent for a bit, thinking about Glanni's advice to him about trusting Sportacus. Thinking about his advice to Glanni about being honest and open. Thinking about nearly losing Sportacus without ever telling him anything that mattered, telling him about all the things he'd like..love… to share with him. Thinking about Glanni and Íƥróttaálfurinn's failure to communicate and all the heartache it had brought. 

Taking a deep breath he looked at the fidgeting Elf beside him, "My parents were murdered, I found them. It was...it was.." his breathing started to quicken, the gruesome sight still fresh in his minds eye after all these years. His father's... the way they'd…his mother's eyes all.. 

The soft touch of a hand on his startled him back to the here and now, worried blue eyes seeking his. "It was...bad," he settled on. "The police came and took me away. They took Glanni to a hospital, he'd fallen down some stairs you see. He was living with us," Robbie halted, the story jumbled in his head, coming out all tangled up.

"My parents were dead and they took away my only family. I wanted Glanni. They took me to see him in the hospital but when I told what I had seen they took me away again. So I never told.. I never spoke about it again. And then Glanni came to get me." 

"So he is your guardian," Sportacus surmised. 

"No. Yes? No.. Perhaps? Not legally though, he was too young to.." Robbie faltered again, looking at Sportacus for answers the Elf could not possibly have. 

He remember the shouted accusation of "You took a traumatized child out of the custody of social services."   
But looking at Sportacus there was no judgement, just gentle compassion, though the Sportself had clearly come to the same conclusion as his brother.

"Where did you go?" Sportacus asked softly.

"I'm not sure, we moved a lot. Glanni got us shelter in abandoned houses. We got used to the cold and the dark. People notice when a house is supposed to be unoccupied but there is smoke coming from the chimney." Nowadays even snow in his lair didn't bother him. 

"I was never hungry though, Glanni took good care of me. Better than he took care of himself," he didn't quite know how to convey that Glanni was all that he'd needed at that time but was desperate for Sportacus to understand that the man was good, more than a criminal. That he'd been the only brightness and safety in dark times.  
His face twitching he resumed, "He's.. we are.. my mother was half-Fae. Glanni used his magic to keep me healthy."

He couldn't bare to look at Sportacus at this admission.

"You're part Fae? That's fantastic!"

"It really isn't." 

Seeing Sportacus hesitant look he expanded, "Glanni got me back into school eventually. He pretended to be my dad. Or my mum. He's good at disguises." He'd enjoyed the schemes, they were some of his happiest memories. He still loved to pretend and trick people.

"School wasn't... good. We tried to avoid all scrutiny, all suspicion. I quickly learned that children't shouldn't be loud, shouldn't be seen, shouldn't be heard. But the other children were so different, led such strange lives. And at school…well, children can be cruel. It was safer to stay indoors, to be alone." 

A world of hurt in his words and Sportacus' heart ached for the man. So many oddities, eccentricities, made sense now. He clearly recalled one day atop a billboard, Robbie flinching away from him, from his helping hand. "Did they...bully you Robbie? Did they hit you?"   
The man was staring at the bedspread, his free hand fidgeting, the other gripping his tightly, "Once. And that's how we discovered I had magic."

Robbie was still avoiding his eyes, "No one was hurt, just major structural damage. Lots of broken glass." 

Sportacus begged to differ, clearly the most important person had been hurt. But he kept his tongue, intently listening to whatever Robbie wanted to share.

"We ran, I never went back to school. We didn't know how magic works. Still don't know how... Glanni's magic takes a lot from him, it drains him, but he knows somewhat how to use it. He healed you you know."   
Sportacus did know, Íƥróttaálfurinn had told him what it had done to Glanni, how burned up Glanni had been afterwards.

"I don't know how it works, I can't contain it. It seems to flow alright at first when I'm in disguise but when I'm... upset, it falters." He thought about the strange occurrence in the woods, "Or it flares up wildly." 

He fell silent, apprehensive of Sportacus reaction but also strangely relieved to tell all this to someone who cared.

When Sportacus finally spoke his words weren't what Robbie expected in the least, "I'm glad you grew up with such a dedicated and brave man. I think it's admirable what he did."

Wide-eyed Robbie looked at him and Sportacus added kindly, " I also think it's a testament to your strenght that there is still softness in your heart after all the hardships and sorrow in your life."

Tears stinging his eyes and cheeks crimson Robbie studied Sportacus' face, growing more anxious the longer the Elf remained silent.

Sportacus wasn't questioning why Glanni had taken him and ran, it was not the bottomline of the story.   
Robbie's story had been about two children surviving together, withstanding all the world threw at them and growing up with enough hope in their hearts to still want to be part of that world. Sportacus considered how an explanation for Robbie's sometimes peculiar actions lay in the unstable groundwork of his childhood.  
So many quirks and oddities explained in a few sentences, the origin of this awkward, wonderful, lonely, brilliant man. Very maladjusted to society; clearly wanting to be part of it but not knowing how to go about it. How he never had been to a birthday party, a Christmas dinner. 

This…house; underground, secluded, but also hooked up to a network of speakers and periscopes to let him know what happened in town.   
He thought about how Robbie only played with the children while in disguise, how self-confident he was in costume and how swift he got away when being unmasked. 

He thought about how Robbie trusted him with these intimate, deeply private details of his past and upbringing. 

He thought about how he had silently, patiently loved this strong resilient man for years.

This dear man, who was leading by example by being vulnerable, brave and honest. 

And Sportacus couldn't do anything but answer in earnestly by undisclosing the secret of his own carefully guarded tender feelings;  
"Robbie, do you know why my ship came to yóu?"

Once again Robbie was blind-sided, mutely shaking his head, looking at Sportacus with wide eyes.

"Because it knew you would save me. You had already saved me by giving me purpose, joy, a home here in Lazytown. Because my ship knew about my love for you." Sportacus' ears were burning but determined he continued his heartfelt confession,

"I've never told you because I was too afraid, afraid of a broken heart. But you could never do such a thing, you who remained so very very kindhearted, so full of hope. How could I not love you?   
I nearly died without ever telling you and by doing so I would have done you terribly wrong. How could I not tell you how wonderful you are, how beloved. How vital, how important, how dear to my heart.   
You trusting me with your past only makes me love you more deeply. I wonder at your bravery, your strength. And if there is but a small chance that my love could brighten your life in someway I want you to have that."

In some way it was a relief to finally say all of it out loud. Sportacus' heart was beating wildly in his chest, his hopes, his heart, he'd laid them in Robbie's hands. Those big, capable hands, hands that had saved him, that had cared so patiently and gently for him over the last days.   
Hands that were now shaking, wiping away the tears that ran down Robbie's cheeks. Robbie was shaking his head, his voice hoarse, "You got me wrong, I'm not good, I'm not brave, I'm not nice. I'm your villain..." He ended in a sob and gently Sportacus pulled him in his embrace, head against his good shoulder, warm hand rubbing soothing circles on his back.

"You're mine, my Robbie. Don't get me wrong, I see your flaws. But I also see all your virtues. There's so much good in you, so much more than you seem to think yourself. We're so very very different but we could be good together. You're perfect with all your imperfections and I don't want you to change. I just want you to be happy."

With a shuddering exhale Robbie pulled back , eyes red-rimmed but smiling his toothy radiant smile. Sportacus heart soared at the gorgeous vision, a flutter of hope...  
"I want that," Robbie's voice croaky but decisive, "I want that happiness. I want your happiness... Can I... Can we..." 

Sportacus was nodding vigorously, "Yes. Yes, please." He laughed elated, shining with delight, "There's always a way."

Robbie snorted, " I swept you off your feet even back then."

Sportacus' reply was cut short by his crystal going off, two pairs of eyes instantly looking at the flashing stone on the nightstand. Sportacus bit his lip _(and Robbie very firmly decided not to look into how he'd rather bite that lip himself)_ an instant worried frown on his face, "Robbie, what am I going to do? Íƥró isn't going to be back for hours. What...?"

Robbie scoffed, "Who do you think that has been training your brother? He's rather different from you and your games isn't he? All exercise, exercise..." He gave Sportacus a stern look, "Stay, I am taking care of this. Don't you dare think about getting above ground." One minute he was ranting, the next he was gone.

Sportacus's gave the empty room a befuddled glance then shrugged. Gasping at the pain in his shoulder he was instantly reminded as to whý he wasn't allowed out. But he could...

He didn't even try to look guilty when Robbie later found him next to his periscope. Instead he gave him a blinding smile and an enthusiastic, "That was fantastic!"

The way Robbie blushed was terribly endearing, gruffly mumbling, "Well, yeah, the brats really miss your goofing around. What did I tell you?"

"Not to go out?" He tried for innocent but Robbie rolled his eyes at the obvious subterfuge,  
"Don't get cheeky with me, back to bed."

A little chastised Sportacus made to move, only saved and held upright by Robbie's strong arm around his waist as his body betrayed him and his knees buckled. 

Snugly settled between purple sheets Sportacus gave Robbie a soft smile, eyes drooping, wiped out after the small excursion "I love you Robbie," he looked incredibly content, "I think I'll never tire of saying that."

He nodded off before Robbie could answer _(typically)_ , but his daintily pointed ear twitched almost imperceptibly at the tight, " Love you too."

Robbie sat down on the comforter, staring at the Elf in his bed for a long time. 

His Elf. His Sportacus. 

His happiness. 

He vowed to show Sportacus everyday, in words and deeds, how he loved him, trusted him. 

He'd be Sportacus' first, and if he had any say in it, his only love. _(Which sounded way more sinister than the happily-ever-after Robbie had in mind actually)_

He'd teach Sportacus what little he knew _(Oh, who was he kidding, he was a genius after all, he knew quite some things, exciting and steamy things... Ehm, yes, sex-things.. But kissing, yes, kissing was where he was going to start)_ and they could discover many other delights together.

Like the sensitivity of those ears. 

And discovering exactly how flexible Sportacus was should also promise to be quite....interesting. As a scientist he was duty bound to test that flexibility in many different positions. On many different surfaces. 

 

\-------------------


	14. Chapter 14

Sportacus watched Robbie work with a fond smile. 

Still confided to the indoors but his strength slowly returning. He didn't have the energy for more than some light exercise but it felt good to be up. 

In a day or two he'd try to make a bid for the outdoors. But for now, sitting back and enjoying the local hospitality and scenery was quite nice too.

To see all that enthusiasm, the brilliance at work That strength with which he lived with his ups and downs, to still see the good in the world. That laserfocus on his work, the fascinating use of some very...interesting tools.

That wonderful smile, those big hands, that... he sat up a bit straighter, craning his neck for as better view as Robbie bend over. Yeees, that was a sight he wasn't going to get tired of.

He'd get that, every day. For the rest of his life if he had any say in it.

He had told himself Robbie hadn't been ready for a relationship. Turned out he was the one who was afraid. Afraid that he wasn't wanted. Wasn't needed. Wasn't cared for.

Afraid that the world was as dark as everyone had always wanted him to believe. That he'd be alone. Unloved.

But here, his life had started, he'd found his purpose, his heart had mended. It had regained it's strength, the strength to be soft, caring, loving.

 

\-----------------------------

 

Sportacus had followed in the footsteps of their father, even after seeing how the hero-business was eating away at his brother. Íƥróttaálfurinn wanted to uphold the law, rid the world of crime and corruption. He saw the bad in people, the ugly and destructive, and it hollowed him out.

Sportacus had wanted to help people, wanted to make the world a better place, believing good always triumphed over evil. He wanted to comfort those in need, help those who were harmed.

His family had called him too naive, too bright-eyed and enthusiastic for the often gritty and dark and demanding tasks of a hero. He'd been too innocent, still was, and it had gotten him hurt on more than one occasion. 

He wasn't a hero suited for the big cities with their indifference and violence. His heart too caring, too compassionate.

He still had the brass knuckles Íƥróttaálfurinn had given him when he'd first joined him in MayhemTown. They hadn't helped again the lead pipes and the knives. They hadn't helped because he didn't have the heart to use them, not even to protect himself. They'd still been in his pocket when he'd laid in that alley, bleeding out, staring up at the sky, not even a star visible through the smog to comfort him. 

He'd woken up to find his mother crying next to him, begging the gods to let him live.

His father, pale and silent, looking frail and far older than his years.

His brother, pacing like a caged tiger, knuckles bruised and bloodied.

He hadn't set out to fight crime after that. His crystal no longer warned him for things like that, only natural disasters made it go off. 

\----------------------------------

And then there had been a pink letter, a little girl, Stephanie. Asking for his help. 

He'd never gotten to actually help her that first day, not since his crystal had started going off for small emergencies in the town. It had never done that before. But with his crystal's guidance he had watched over the people in Lazy Town, had prevented them from getting scraped and bruised that day. 

They had asked him to stay, those friendly, cheerful and bright people, even after the small crisis had been resolved. _(The tall, dark and handsome man popping up from behind a wall and enthusiastically waving his arms had been an intriguing addition. In hindsight it hadn't so much been enthusiasm...)_

It was the first time that had happened. 

And how could he not stay? The charming town was beckoning him with it's softness, it had been tugging at his unsettled heart.  
His heart, his tender hopeful heart, it still believed there to be good in the world, and this town, this happy, helpful town was welcoming him. 

Wanting him. 

He had returned to his airship, thankful for having felt at home, even if for just a little while.  
He had expected the town to forget about him, they always did. 

But then there had been another letter, a call for help from the mayor. 

He'd been expecting emergencies and disasters like in the other towns; a flood, fire, earthquake, thunderstorm..  
The mayor had asked for his help with the children in town. His help with the orphan he was raising, Stephanie. 

Mayor Meanswell, a kind and bumbling man who had become the sole guardian of his niece and a man very much at a loss at how to raise the orphaned girl by himself. He was more than willing to do whatever it took though, wanting to make her happy, supporting her interests. Wanting her to have friends her age in Lazy Town, friends to join her in her outdoor games. And that had been the problem, no one wanted to play outside.

The mayor had been remembering him _(well, not him, it had been Íƥróttaálfurinn as a matter of fact)_ playing baseball with the kids and begging him to do something similar this year. 

Soccer, that he could do. 

Sort of. 

He did know one trick...

He'd been a bit bewildered by the whole situation but had allowed the mayor to drag him around. Flabbergasted he had stared at the whole set-up for Sportacular Spectacle Day.  
He'd never had the heart to tell the mayor that it hadn't been him the previous year and luckily the kids hadn't wondered why he didn't know how to play baseball later on. 

He'd been afraid that they'd realize that he was not his brother, not there hero who they had thought him to be. Not the hero they had wanted for their town.

He'd been quite nervous, afraid to disappoint to mayor who seemed to have so much confidence in his skills. Stephanie had been sweetly reassuring him that she believed in him. And then happening what he'd been afraid of, failing spectacularly.

They hadn't laughed however. They'd come to help him. _(The singing had been....interesting. He still hadn't figured out where the music was coming from during these moments. His working theory was that Robbie's speakersystem was involved somehow, the man was also a musical genius he'd learned)_

They'd turned around the whole situation _(literally too)_ and he'd discovered that the the villain didn't so much want him gone as to be praised himself for once _(and also that Robbie could jump real high, that had made quite an impression)_  
And then there had been dancing, he loved the dancing.

Training the kids for Sportsday next had been quite an experience.  
He had discovered that he loved working with kids; their cheer, their wide-eyed belief that the world was still a friendly and magical place. 

Bright and eager to learn, needing just a nudge, a listening ear. He trusted them with small responsibilities and was being rewarded in so many wonderful ways.

He taught the children lessons about friendship, exercise, healthy life choices... The educational and nurturing aspects, helping with the foundations for the outstanding adults they'd be some day... He loved it, wanted to see them grow up.

His ambition to help, to comfort, to better the world, in this small town he'd found his purpose in life. 

He found himself.

He found a home.

And it all started with a strange man who had wanted the children to be quiet. Indoors. 

A man who had learned in his own childhood that playing indoors and and being quiet meant safety. His formative years had given him quite a different perspective on what constituted as normal, entertaining and safe. _(the standard of the latter applied to himself in even more worrying and calamitous ways)_

Stephanie had told Sportacus how he had known the interests _(Stephanie had called it weaknesses to be honest)_ of each and every child, making use of that knowledge in a underhanded way that first day she'd been in town. Protective in his own quaint way.

Playful, having the kind of imagination to make up adventurous games for the kids and giving them their villain to triumph over.

Encouraging them with heart and soul _(and means, lets not forget about the props. Sportacus was still in awe of the circus he'd set up in one night)_ to play the hero in their fantasyworld.

Sportacus didn't have that kind of imagination, kept falling for the traps and disguises. 

He'd learned to recognize Robbie by his purple and orange accessorizes though. By the time the whole business with the stolen cake happened he'd been quite amused by Robbie's antics, playing along and enjoying how the kids seemed to have a great time rescuing him.

His villain. 

He eagerly looked forward to their next meeting, impatiently waiting for their next competition, keen on the next lesson they'd teach the children together.

He'd started seeking Robbie out, talking one on one, got to know him, got to trust him, got to love him.

The cause of so much happiness. His happiness. His love.

\---------------


	15. Chapter 15

Robbie caught Sportacus' dreamy sappy smile, his own answering mushy expression hidden by his welding helmet. 

Sportacus was growing stronger every day, his wounds no longer hindering his movements. 

Perhaps this was the time to start on... those lessons he'd had in mind. 

Having the _(unnecessarily often wetting his lips)_ object of affections close by had made it so much easier to work out his creative plans regarding that tempting pink mouth to the minutiæs in the last two days. 

Suddenly eager to start his comparison of the undoubtedly unbeatable reality with his theoretical hypotheses _(all strictly in the name of science of course. Carnal knowledge, heh)_ he put his work down. 

No sooner had he done so or a loud bang echoed through his lair, followed by a cheery, "Honey, I'm home!"

Oh yes, how could he have forgotten, the course of science never did run smooth. And here came one or two obstructions.

Íƥróttaálfurinn and Glanni looked both rather disheveled, Glanni walking with a distinct limp. Well, obviously not all thát distinct, since Sportacus worriedly inquired after his health.

Glanni had at least the decency to look a bit abashed, Íƥróttaálfurinn's smug face on the other hand spoke volumes. 

Now, Robbie philosophically reflected, the bright side of this embarrassing scene was learning that Sportacus clearly knew something about the content of those volumes, seeing how he was blushing bright red as he caught on. 

\--------------------------------------


	16. Chapter 16

It always came back to singing Robbie thought idly. 

He recognized the tune, Íƥróttaálfurinn had sang it while watching over his brother's unconscious form. 

The song was very different now Sportacus had joined in. Íƥróttaálfurinn's part was unchanged, sad, wistful. The wandering mortal man who was doomed to fall in love with an immortal elvenmaiden.

But Sportacus sang about her love for the man, the may be doomed in the end but their long life together one full of hope and them burning bright together.

Robbie looked at Glanni who was not even pretending to not listen, noted the pensive frown. Finally Glanni turned to him, "Robbie...do you...am I..." He stopped in frustration, unable to articulate his jumbled thoughts and feelings. 

Robbie offered," You're talking about Íƥró's part of the song?"

"Yes."

"How it sounds like there's only heartbreak and pain in the end."

"Yes." 

"Despite it being the case that it is in fact a touching love story?"

"Yes."

"You think you're going to get your heart broken?" 

Glanni avoided his eyes as he curled in on himself, shaking his head.

"You think you're going to break his heart." 

An almost imperceptible nod.

"Oh Glanni," Robbie sighed,"We might be able to break their hearts but they are not going to let us. They will fight for their love, our love. They will pin us down to talk, quite literally I'm afraid. They are not blind to our flaws, on the contrary, they know them very well, and despite our messy lives they still fell in love with us. We already argued, pushed them away. But I think we both learned in the last week that actually talking about what goes on in our head works."

Robbie's nose twitched as he continued, "So, we'll have to actually tálk about our...feelings."

His gaze softened as he looked at the younger of the two Elves, "But for Sportacus, I’ll try."

Glanni smiled at his loving affection, his grin growing devious, needing a lighter topic of conversation after his short and honest emotional investment;   
"Sooo, Sportacus...," 

Robbie gave him a wary look, recognizing that teasing tone and bracing himself.

"I hope you do more than talking? I mean, if he's in shape like his brother there's so much more..." 

"Glanni!" 

"Stamina too, and if he puts his back..." 

"Glanni!!" 

"And it's also really convenient that Elves don't need..."

"Glanni!!!"

The mortified yelling made the two Elves turn and watch in bemusement as Glanni turned on his heel and ran cackling maniacally, Robbie, with the apparent intent to either strangle or smother his relative, in hot pursuit.

\-----

Íƥróttaálfurinn gave Glanni's lean form a calculating look as he vaulted over the safety rail next to the disguise-tubes. If he was recovered and flexible enough for this kind of strenuous activity...

"Well, I suppose this is our cue to leave for today. We don't want them to maim each other inadvertently."

Sportacus shook his head, scoffing, "Very subtle Íƥró."

\---------------------------

With Sportacus slowly growing stir crazy due to his inactivity Robbie took some liberties with social conventions. 

7:08 on the dot every night he joined Sportacus every night, reading a book to him to soothe his restlessness, to help him fall asleep. 

Robbie's voice quieting his active mind, calming, settling him. Their time together, it was an indulgence for the both of them, a luxury.

The first night Robbie had sat in the awfully uncomfortable chair _(he really needed to finish the replacement)_ but Sportacus had beckoned him to sit next to him on the bed, citing concern for Robbie's poor abused back. 

No siren had ever been more alluring than Sportacus in that moment; all sweet demure smiles and concerned wide eyes.

So Robbie had yielded _(he'd never been on for delayed gratification, and oh this was gratifying)_ and now he was quite comfortable on the bed, Sportacus' curled up next to him, sneaking a little bit closer every night.

"Okay, shut up and listen," Robbie settled in and opened the book, "In the land of Ingary, where such things as seven-league boots and cloaks of invisibility really exist..."

He'd gotten halfway, to the part where the hero expressed his feelings in an outrageous way. The dramatics oddly reminded him off Glanni. 

He glanced up from the page to share that notion with Sportacus and,  
"You're not listening, aren't you." 

"I am. Well... I was... I was thinking...and..." 

"And?" 

"Looking at you."

"You could look ánd listen."

"I already know this story" 

"You do?" 

"Yes, it's one of my favorites." 

"Why didn't you say so?"

"I love the ending."

Robbie flipped to the last page, "You love how it's raining?"

"The happily ever after. It was way more eventful than the story made it sound. I loved that."

Robbie quickly skimmed the last page, "They call it hair-raising."

"Sounds interesting to me,"

"Interesting."

Robbie put the book aside, looking down at Sportacus who grinned unrepentively; 

"Stimulating." 

Sportacus had turned turned over smoothly, hoovering over Robbie's suddenly breathless form. Holding himself up with those gloriously strong arms, he was now looking up at Robbie,

"Breathtaking, " 

Robbie was mesmerized by the way he crawled up his body, bringing them nose to nose. All fluid movement, poised grace, and of course those firm, hard... muscles.  
He was very sure he'd never seen a more enticing sight.

"Robbie, " Sportacus murmured after a few thrilling beats, growing a tad unsure in all his seductive glory, "When are you finally going to kiss me?"

In a quick movement Robbie reversed their positions _(yes, he also couldn't believe that he had executed that so well)_

Sportacus stared up at him, his blond curls a mess on Robbie's pillow. Those blue blue eyes expectant, hopeful. 

Robbie brushed his rough thumb oh so softly over that tempting bottom lip, traced his sharp cupid's bow. Almost reverently satisfying his curiosity, cherishing, wanting.

And then finally, oh finally, he leant in to kiss this precious, this astounding, this adored man, Elf, whatever, so very very sweetly. 

A light touch and that pure, virginal mouth opened slightly. 

A startled sigh. 

Robbie pulled back a little, took in the closed eyes, the look of delighted wonder.

Another smooth kiss, tongue sweeping lightly, across that pink, pink bottom lip. Petal-soft strokes, pleasingly, stunning.

Sportacus tasted like happiness.

And Robbie deepened the kiss slowly, lost himself as Sportacus responded beautifully, perfectly.

He'd proved over and over to be a fast learner after all. 

\--------------

8:08 came and went, ignored for once. 

They were only drifting to sleep much much later, when they had appeased their need somewhat with delightfully satisfying kisses. For sure there were many more fascinating sensual explorations to come but for now they laid content and soothed in a warm embrace. The could take things slow for once in their lives. Or not. They'd figure it out together.

But for now, two hearts, peaceful and blissfully happy.

And lazy. Le's not forget lazy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, those were Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones and the song of Beren and Luthién.


	17. Chapter 17

**Epilogue**

Sportacus' airship returned some days later, towing not only Íƥróttaálfurinn's balloon but also another blimp. Sportacus circled all three aircrafts as his own trusted ship had landed them altogether. 

The ones belonging to them seemed to be in a perfect shape, his own wiggling cheery when greeted.

The unfamiliar one was clearly an older model, it's gondola in need of paint job but otherwise airworthy. Having a theory what is was meant for, who it was meant for, Sportacus went to speak with his AI. His guess confirmed he went to find Robbie.

The engineer inspected the blimp, deeming it safe but in dire need of some repairs, a tune up and proper refurbishing. Only after that endorsement Sportacus' dared to voice his suggestion to his beloved, meeting enthusiastic approval.

A home for Íƥróttaálfurinn and Glanni; one that would allow them to pursue their intended professions. They'd discovered during their undertaking of tracking and capturing the Greisnnaur that their combined talents made them a perfect team for bringing in wayward magical creatures. The subduing or capturing them, bringing them home, distracting the masses and preventing panic and unnecessary slaughter. Íƥróttaálfurinn the general running, Glanni the running a con, they'd enjoyed it.   
They planned to see where it would lead them. 

Apparently their father had also heard about his eldest' adventures and used the opportunity to provide for a different vessel. _(Safer. The elderly hero sure had acrophobia. He'd cited it not being an irrational fear when Íƥróttaálfurinn was flying it.The whole business with the dragon and the power lines were testimony to that. His moustache had grown back. Eventually)_

Sportacus' idea was met with keen interest and eagerness, Glanni already thinking about interior design and stating the need for a proper kitchen. 

Íƥróttaálfurinn took Robbie discreetly aside to ask about the possibilities of installing a bath.

They'd taken to fixing the vessel up together, jointly barring Sportacus' from any heavy lifting or straining work. The headstrong argumentative trio agreeing on something such a miracle that Sportacus listened for once without too much protesting. _(There'd been a little bit of protesting, a reasonable amount. Robbie had silenced him, kissing him till he was lightheaded and his reasons forgotten)_

Sportacus watched them all with a smile, his stare growing decidedly heated when he spotted Robbie, the sleeves of his mechanic overall tied around his waist, his rather impressive biceps exposed, hair a curly mess after working at the turbines.

He jumped when Íƥróttaálfurinn popped up next to him but his brother merely grinned, tucked something in his pocket and flipped away at topspeed. Sportacus heard his maniacal laughter in the distance as he flushed bright red after pulling the condom Íƥróttaálfurinn had left him from his pocket. _(He'd like to think Glanni was a corrupting influence on his brother but in all honesty, he'd always been like that)_

A pale hand nabbed the square foil wrapper from him it, accompanied by a disapproving clucking sound, "It's a good thing he's pretty. That's not right darling, you'll need a bigger size for Robbie."  
Completely mortified Sportacus made the mistake of looking Glanni in the eye. The man gave him a wicked smirk, "Don't worry about being a screamer, his bedroom is soundproofed."   
He sauntered off, throwing a wink over his shoulder as he called for Íƥróttaálfurinn to wait up.

Lured by the lovely vision of the flustered Sportacus Robbie came closer, catching sight of the object Glanni had tucked under the band of Sportacus' goggles. 

He gawked for a moment then delicately pulled it loose remarking, "That's the first time either of them has ever been concerned about safety. Safety is important when working on a construction site." 

Sportacus hid his crimson face in the crook of Robbie's neck and incredibly endeared Robbie tried for a distraction, "Now, I think the walls could be painted tomorrow. Do you think that could fit that in on your to-do-list?"

Sportacus muttered something Robbie didn't quite catch,

"What's that?"

"Do you think you could fit me in on your to-do list?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done! The first multi-chapter fic I've ever written! (and probably the last... XD)


End file.
